A smarter way to fight recidivism — and fix our labor shortage | Opinion

Justin Gibson was in an Indiana jail cell. With no job, no income — and no idea what came next — he entered a pilot work-release program allowing him to work a manufacturing job during the day. While still incarcerated, he paid child support, saved money, and started building a future. After his release, he was offered a full-time position — a job he holds nearly two years later.

Justin’s story isn’t a miracle. It’s a model — one we can scale nationally.

Thousands of non-violent inmates sit idle behind bars while companies struggle to fill jobs. These two realities can be bridged through a private-sector inmate work-release program that offers real jobs and real hope.

And unlike many overhyped policy ideas, this one actually works.

The status quo is failing everyone

The U.S. incarcerates over 1.2 million people in state and federal prisons and many more in local jails. Between 50 and 55 percent are non-violent offenders, often serving time for drug-related or low-level property crimes.

While incarcerated, these individuals often gain no job skills, earn no income, and leave with nothing but a plastic bag of belongings and a criminal record. They’re expected to “reintegrate” with no plan, no resources, and no support.

The result? Most fall right back into the same conditions that led to their incarceration in the first place. That’s not rehabilitation; that’s a revolving door. It costs taxpayers billions and delivers nothing but more broken lives.

Meanwhile, American businesses — especially in trades, logistics, and manufacturing — are desperate for workers. These labor shortages aren’t temporary. They are deep-rooted and systemic.

So why not connect willing workers with jobs that need filling — even if those workers are behind bars?

A proven program that works

In Kentucky and Indiana, a privately operated inmate work-release program has delivered remarkable results. Through a partnership between local jails and Sheriff Staffing Services, select non-violent inmates were given the chance to work in local businesses during the day and return to jail at night.

Participation was voluntary, selective and strictly monitored. Workers were transported daily to job sites, wore ankle monitors, and regularly drug tested. Employers paid a set hourly rate that covered the workers’ wages and the program’s operational costs — no taxpayer burden required.

Participants earned at least minimum wage, often more. Some made up to $30,000 while incarcerated. That income allowed them to support families, pay off debts, and save for a fresh start. And most importantly, it gave them a purpose incarceration rarely does.

Circuit Judge Ken Howard, who oversaw participants in the program, saw the impact firsthand. “I don’t think I saw any of these folks get revoked or go back to prison,” he said. “It reduced recidivism. They weren’t coming back.”

Employers, too, saw the value. In many cases, demand for inmate workers exceeded the program’s capacity. One former participant even became a plant manager after his release.

From local win to national strategy

This model doesn’t need a massive federal overhaul to scale. The infrastructure already exists: local jails with eligible inmates, and businesses with empty job slots. What’s often missing is coordination — transportation, oversight, staffing — all of which are logistical hurdles, not policy impossibilities.

The federal government doesn’t need to operate the program. It just needs to enable it — by offering seed grants, creating national standards, and incentivizing business participation. The rest can be handled locally, through public-private partnerships that put results ahead of rhetoric.

This is one of those rare policies that everyone can agree on: conservatives who value work and responsibility, progressives who seek justice reform, and employers who just need dependable labor.

More than a paycheck - a second chance

For the incarcerated individuals, this program is transformational. It gives them a reason to wake up early, show up on time, follow rules, and contribute. It rebuilds their confidence. It makes them feel like people again.

As Justin Gibson put it: “Just being able to leave… made you feel like a person, not an animal.” He used his earnings to pay child support and rebuild his relationship with his kids. He now runs the department when his supervisor is away. That’s not just rehabilitation. That’s reintegration.

Families benefit too. A parent sending money home from jail creates stability instead of strain. A returning citizen with a job offer and savings is far less likely to reoffend — and far more likely to succeed.

This isn’t a call for leniency. It’s a call for effectiveness. The program demands discipline, accountability, and effort. In return, it delivers: lower recidivism, safer communities, stronger families, and a more stable workforce.

We’ve wasted too much human potential for too long.

Let’s stop wasting potential and start rebuilding lives.

Kate Polson, a Democrat, and Jacob Jiranek, a Republican, are pre-law students at Transylvania University.