Debt paid, offenders face hurdles to stay off streets

Originally Published April 21, 2008; Page 1A
By LEO STRUPCZEWSKI
Courier-Post Staff

Never mind the six aliases, five separate state prison sentences or the ankle bracelet hidden under his pant leg -- none of that mattered to McCormick & Schmick's when the new Cherry Hill restaurant hired Elfatir Mohammad.

The upscale seafood chain needed a dishwasher, and Mohammad, a 48-year-old with close, evenly cropped hair and a well-maintained goatee, impressed during an interview, despite his background.

It was the perfect break . . . until it wasn't.


The same day a reporter from the Courier-Post spoke with the company's executive vice president, Mike Liedberg, and chef Andres Tzul about Mohammad's attempts to turn his life around, he was let go. At least, that is, until he filled out a 21-page state application, filed an affidavit detailing his criminal history and attached copies of indictments, grand jury presentations and judgments of convictions -- all of it, it turns out, is needed before an ex-offender can even be considered by the state for employment at a business with a liquor license.

Such is the life.

In October, Gov. Jon S. Corzine described prisoners' return to society as a "doorstep right back in (to prison)" and called for a list of sweeping changes, including more job training, better health care and housing aid and a reduction of "collateral sanctions" -- the penalties that accompany convictions after an offender returns to society. The impetus for change is a simple statistic -- of the 16,000 people released from New Jersey prisons this year, 65 percent will be rearrested within five years.

Though work on the governor's plan is being done, several of the changes are "slow and deliberate." And that means Mohammad's situation is far from atypical.

"If we're going to just talk about it in meetings, that's one thing," said the Rev. A.B. Frazier, executive director of an ex-offender program at the Paulsboro Community Development Center. "But the fact remains that these guys are getting out every day. They need some help."

Since 1979, when New Jersey enacted its current criminal code, the state's prison population has swelled from fewer than 7,000 offenders to more than 27,000 -- a nearly fourfold increase.
Among that growing list of names is Elfatir Mohammad.

His entire family "was law enforcement and military," he said, except for his mother, now retired. She worked as an operator for Bell Telephone.

School dropout

But Mohammad, who dropped out of Camden High School in ninth grade, took a different route.

By April 2003, he was sitting in Superior Court in Camden, awaiting sentencing on charges he repeatedly kicked, punched and stabbed a woman with a screwdriver.

It was his seventh indictable offense, and the prosecutor handling the case told the court Mohammad had a daily dependence on cocaine and alcohol, according to court records.

In interviews, Mohammad summed up most of his adult life as "roaming the streets."

He was first arrested in 1979 on robbery charges. He was 19.

After a year in prison -- there was no mandatory minimum for sentences at the time -- Mohammad was released. It only took a year before he was picked up on a parole violation.
From there, it snowballed.

When he was again released on parole, he returned to state prison for another violation. Two more trips -- by the way of drug and aggravated assault charges -- followed after additional releases.

All told, Mohammad has spent more than 15 years of his adult life in seven of the state's 10 prisons for males. He also served time at one of the state's three youth facilities, according to the Department of Corrections.

He earned a GED in 1981 and, when he was out, held a few "McDonald's-type" jobs, he said, but sold drugs to pay for a cocaine habit. His body bears the marks of the lifestyle -- he's been shot, stabbed and hit by a car.

There were, however, two attempts to clean up.

One came, he said, after being released from prison in 1991 for weapons offenses. For awhile, he lived in upstate New York and removed hazardous waste. He married and was raising a son (now in the military). But by 1994, he said, he was again arrested on a drug charge.

A second attempt was made in 1996.

He stayed out of trouble long enough to buy a three-bedroom home in Pennsauken's Delair section and worked to fix it up until a relationship went south and the work became too stressful. The cocaine came calling.

It was always that way for Mohammad -- back to Camden, back to the streets and, ultimately, back to prison.

"I don't put fault and blame on no one else," Mohammad said. "I'd say, back then, I wasn't as morally conscious as I am now. You're just part of the street life."

He has been out now for 14 months and, since February, relied heavily on services from Volunteers of America Delaware Valley, a nonprofit organization which serves those in need and also partners with the state to help ex-offenders transition into society.

Without the VOA's help, Mohammad said, he'd likely be homeless and hungry. Because of his drug charges, he has been told he is ineligible for food stamps, and friends turn him away when they see his monitoring bracelet.

After leaving prison last time, he was burned out, he said. There was no watershed moment, it just sort of crystalized.

"You get to a certain age, it's over," Mohammad said. "I don't want to be in jail. I'm done with that."

So, Monday through Friday, he's required to visit the program's Day Reporting Center to meet with a caseworker. Recently, he's been filling out the 21-page form to regain his job at McCormick & Schmick's -- "They're asking me for stuff I don't even have," he said.

The hope is he'll return to the restaurant, said Chris Westcott, McCormick & Schmick's regional vice president.

"Our chef saw something in him," Westcott said. "We stand by that."

In the meantime, Mohammad spends several hours a day searching for a new, less problematic job.

But without a driver's license, because of his drug convictions, he's limited to businesses along bus routes. And that means strategic planning. Mohammad has been to industrial parks in Pennsauken, shopping centers in Cherry Hill and Audubon and the dozens of diners dotted on the major roadways throughout the area.

It sometimes takes three hours to apply for one job.

"You know, he doesn't lack motivation," said Andre Filmore, one of the many people at the Day Reporting Center who work with Mohammad. "(For most parolees) the biggest block is their attitude."

Motivated

Regardless of what happens, Mohammad is one of the lucky ones.

There are a limited number of halfway houses and day reporting centers in the state and parolees in them have a significantly better chance at succeeding, statistics show.

Of those who are assigned to Volunteers of America programs in Camden, only 32 percent are rearrested within five years and only 28 percent return to prison, according to a 2005 study conducted by the organization.

And at Frazier's program in Paulsboro, run by grant funding and volunteers, the percentage of clients who are rearrested hovers around 40 percent.

The difference, said Pat McKernan, chief operating officer for Volunteers of America's correction services, is the attention.

"A parole officer. . . they're often spending a lot of time doing triage," McKernan said. "That's the advantage of the DRC. It's kind of a partnering together to help . . . Our goal is to keep people motivated."

Corzine's plan calls for more of this.

At the core is an initiative called "Another Chance." It's designed to assess prisoner's needs when they're brought to jail, provide re-entry training and job placement and allow for better housing, health care and food assistance. Family involvement during rehabilitation will also be stressed, according to the program.

Other goals are more legislative. Corzine wants to expand the state's drug courts, modify certain fines and rethink employment disqualifiers.

To bring it together, he needs the cooperation of 10 different state agencies, including the Department of Corrections, the State Parole Board, the Department of Labor and Workforce Development and the Department of Health and Senior Services.

But neither the Reentry Coordinating Council nor a full-time coordinator responsible for overseeing the changes has been appointed or hired, said Shavar Jefferies, counsel to Attorney General Anne Milgram and in charge of Corzine's plans until a director is hired.

"We would have liked to have a person in place right now," he said. "But, obviously, we're focused on making sure we have the right person."

A week ago, Mohammad was back at the corner of 17th and Federal streets, a block away from the Day Reporting Center, waiting for the NJ Transit bus. Dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white dress shirt and a Rocawear denim jacket, he was headed back to the Old Country Buffet in Cherry Hill to check on the status of his employment application.

It was on file, he was told, and a manager may call to set up an interview.

It hasn't happened yet.

Until then, the search continues.

"It's just always that one chance that really counts," he said. "It's like the buzzer shot."

Reach Leo Strupczewski at (856) 317-7828 or lstrupczewski@courierpostonline.com