This exploratory study is the first to examine how convicted felons view the jury process and their role in that process. Data derived from interviews with former and prospective felon‐jurors in Maine, the only US jurisdiction that does not restrict a convicted felon's opportunity to serve as a juror, reveal that participants displayed an idealized view of jury service, stressing a commitment to serve conscientiously. Additionally, inclusion in the jury process affirmed their transitions from “offenders” to “nonoffenders.” In response, participants exhibited a sense of particularized self‐worth, emphasizing that negative experiences with the criminal justice system make one a more effective juror. In sum, this study suggests that among convicted felons, inclusion in the jury process may prompt conformity with the “ideal juror” role, facilitate prosocial identity shifts by mitigating the “felon” label, and help former offenders to find personal value.

Introduction Forty‐nine states, the federal government, and the District of Columbia statutorily limit a convicted felon's eligibility for jury service. Of these jurisdictions, twenty‐eight bar convicted felons from jury service permanently, excluding an estimated 13 million Americans from the jury process (Kalt 2003; Uggen, Manza, and Thompson 2006). Justifying felon jury exclusion statutes, courts and lawmakers allege that convicted felons would jeopardize the jury process because they purportedly lack character and harbor an inherent bias, making them adversarial toward the state and unduly sympathetic to criminal defendants (Kalt 2003; see also United States v. Barry 1995 [character rationale]; People v. Miller 2008 [inherent bias rationale]). Maine is the only jurisdiction that does not restrict a convicted felon's opportunity to serve as a juror (Me. Rev. Stat. Ann. tit. 14, § 1211). In recent years, voter disenfranchisement has dominated research on the civic marginalization of convicted felons (for a literature review, see Pettus 2013; see also Uggen and Manza 2005; Uggen, Manza, and Thompson 2006). As part of that research, scholars have explored the impact of felon‐voter exclusions on elections and questioned the proffered justifications for disenfranchisement (Manza and Uggen 2006). Another strain of research on felon voter disenfranchisement centers on convicted felons’ perspectives, examining how civic participation may shape a former offender's self‐concept (Uggen, Manza, and Behrens 2004; Manza, Uggen, and Behrens 2006; Miller and Spillane 2012). Studies suggest that inclusion in the electorate can promote prosocial identity shifts by encouraging convicted felons to take on and conform to a “citizen role” (Uggen, Manza, and Behrens 2004) and by helping them build a personal narrative (Maruna 2001) that reconciles a criminal past and a new, law‐abiding identity (Miller and Spillane 2012). Though scant, research on felon jury exclusion has chartered a course similar to that on felon‐voter disenfranchisement. In his seminal study of felon jury exclusion, law professor Brian Kalt (2003) argued that the practice undermines the representativeness of jury pools and that the proffered justifications for exclusion were both under‐ and overinclusive, doing little to protect the jury while creating a class of civic outsiders that pose little or no threat to the jury process. While a number of subsequent studies expanded on Kalt's theoretical arguments (Binnall 2008, 2009, 2010; Segal 2010), only two employ empirical methods (Wheelock 2011; Binnall 2014). Again, focused on the impacts of exclusion and the justifications for the practice, those studies suggest that felon jury exclusion racially homogenizes juries (Wheelock 2011) and is based on the flawed rationale that convicted felons harbor a unique prodefense/antiprosecution bias (Binnall 2014). In his study of American democracy, Tocqueville recognized that the jury process could be transformative. He noted that the jury “vests each citizen with a kind of magistracy” and “teaches everyone that they have duties toward society and a role in its government” (Tocqueville 1835, 316). Nearly two centuries later, research supports Tocqueville's observations. The jury process can alter nonfelon participants’ attitudes, fostering a sense of social inclusion and enhanced self‐worth (Consolini 1992). Jury service may also influence subsequent behavior, prompting other forms of civic engagement (Gastil et al. 2008, 2010). Yet, while research indicates that jury participation can play an essential role in the constructive formation or reformation of citizens’ perspectives of self (Consolini 1992; Cutler and Hughes 2001; Gastil, Deess, and Weiser 2002; Gastil and Weiser 2006; Gastil et al. 2012), a vast majority of US jurisdictions banish convicted felons from the process. Convicted felons face practical reentry obstacles (e.g., housing and employment) that assuredly demand far more of their consideration than does their ineligibility for jury service (Petersilia 2003; Travis 2005). Still, prior research indicates that convicted felons value and conscientiously approach civic participation (Manza and Uggen 2006). Research also suggests that enfranchisement can foster prosocial identity shifts among convicted felons (Uggen, Manza, and Behrens 2004; Miller and Spillane 2012). The present study adds to the growing body of research on felon jury exclusion by considering convicted felons’ views of jury service. This study (1) evaluates how convicted felons approach and engage in the jury process and (2) assesses the potential impact of actualized and anticipated jury service on the identities and self‐concepts of convicted felons in Maine, the only US jurisdiction that does not restrict felon‐juror participation. In turn, because self‐perception plays a key role in the criminal desistance process, this study also indirectly examines the possible contribution of jury service to the cessation of criminal activity. To address these inquiries, I first detail research on the supposed threat convicted felons pose to the jury process and the incidence of identity shifts among former offenders, noting the only prior studies assessing the possible link between civic participation and altered self‐perceptions. I next describe the methods and findings of the present study, highlighting themes that emerge from the data. Finally, I discuss my results, suggesting that (1) convicted felons conscientiously approach jury service and (2) a policy of including convicted felons in the jury pool may prompt changes in self‐perception that, in turn, can promote successful reintegration.

Felon Jury Inclusion: Potential Costs and Benefits Prior research on felon jury exclusion is almost entirely theoretical (Kalt 2003; Binnall 2008, 2009, 2010; Segal 2010). Only two prior studies empirically explore the practice of banishing convicted felons from jury service (Wheelock 2011; Binnall 2014) and only one (Binnall 2014) has assessed the potential threat convicted felons pose to the jury process. In one of my prior studies of felon jury exclusion, I evaluated the validity of the inherent bias rationale—a justification for felon jury exclusion proffered by courts and lawmakers that assumes that convicted felons, if allowed to serve, would harbor impermissible prodefense/antiprosecution biases (Binnall 2014). In that study, I compared the pretrial biases of convicted felons, eligible jurors, and eligible jurors enrolled in law school (law students). I found that nearly one‐third of convicted felon participants harbored neutral or proprosecution pretrial biases, suggesting that categorical felon jury exclusion statutes are almost certainly overinclusive. I also found that, as a group, law students were as likely as convicted felons to possess prodefense pretrial biases. These results tend to demonstrate that the supposed threat convicted felons pose to the jury process may be overstated, given that other groups of eligible jurors are as likely to harbor prodefense biases statistically indiscernible from those of convicted felons. Research suggests that former offenders who can alter their self‐concepts positively are more likely to refrain from criminality and to reintegrate successfully (Maruna 2001; Laub and Sampson 2003). Focusing solely on inclusion in the electorate, only two prior studies explore convicted felons’ views of civic participation and whether civic inclusion can alter a convicted felon's self‐concept (Uggen, Manza, and Behrens 2004; Manza, Uggen, and Behrens 2006; Miller and Spillane 2012). In the first, Uggen, Manza, and Behrens (2004) interviewed thirty‐three prisoners, parolees, and probationers in Minnesota and found that civic role commitments contribute to the development and maintenance of a law‐abiding identity (Uggen, Manza, and Behrens 2004). They found that for participants, “the right to vote was fundamental to citizenship and a pro‐social identity, even if they had never exercised that right in the past” (Uggen, Manza, and Behrens 2004, 275). Similarly, drawing on the same data, Manza, Uggen, and Behrens found that former offenders “think of themselves as citizens” and desire to fulfill civic roles (2006, 163). Emphasizing role commitments and a structure‐centric view of personal transformation, Manza, Uggen, and Behrens explain that “to the extent that felons begin to vote and participate as citizens in their communities, there is some evidence that they will bring their behavior in line with the citizen role” (163). In 2012, Miller and Spillane conducted the second study exploring the possible effects of record‐based voting restrictions on convicted felons’ self‐concepts. Employing semistructured interviews with fifty‐four disenfranchised convicted felons, they found that 39 percent of participants viewed felon voter disenfranchisement statutes as “limiting, psychologically harmful, and stigmatizing” (Miller and Spillane 2012, 423). Their data suggest that disenfranchisement disrupts intrinsic processes of transformation by tying former offenders to their criminal pasts, making the reconceptualization or abandonment of a criminal identity nearly impossible (Miller and Spillane 2012). Highlighting the importance of a former offender's ability to construct a plausible desistance narrative, Miller and Spillane warn that “scholars should remain alert to the manner in which long‐term forms of invisible punishments impact ex‐offenders’ ability to sustain the work of developing ‘a coherent prosocial identity for themselves’” (2012, 423, citing Maruna 2001, 7). Research on convicted felons’ views of voting tends to suggest that the alteration of a former offender's self‐concept is the product of both structural factors and intrinsic motivations. Such studies also provide modest support for a broader claim that involving convicted felons in civic processes can facilitate identity shifts. The present study builds on prior research by focusing on convicted felons’ perspectives of jury service, exploring the value convicted felons place on their right to serve, their approach to service, and whether their inclusion in the process may prompt positive personal transformations.

Methods This study consists of thirty‐two in‐depth, semistructured interviews with convicted felons in Maine. All participants met Maine's juror eligibility criteria (Me. Rev. Stat. Ann. tit. 14, § 1211). Because the goal of this study is to explore former offenders’ views of actual and anticipated jury service, it includes convicted felons who have served as a jurors (seven), convicted felons who were summonsed for jury service but were not selected (six), and convicted felons who are eligible for jury service but have not been summonsed (nineteen). All participants with prior jury experience served, or were summonsed and dismissed, in criminal matters. No participant had jury experience in a civil case. I recruited former offenders using in‐person solicitation and advertisements at probation offices throughout Maine over a period of six months in 2012.1 In both instances, I gave prospective participants only limited information about the study, indicating only that the study focused broadly on “their experiences with jury service.” The gender, age, ethnicity, and education level of participants approximates Maine's probation population.2 This study includes eight women (25 percent) and twenty‐four men (75 percent). Participants’ ages range from twenty‐two to fifty‐five, with a mean age of thirty‐eight. Of the thirty‐two participants who took part in this study, 94 percent self‐identified as “white,” while 6 percent self‐identified as “nonwhite.” Participants possessed varying levels of education. Twenty‐five percent had not attained a GED/high school diploma, 50 percent possessed a GED/high school diploma, and 25 percent had some college courses or more. Among the participant group, the type and number of felony convictions also varied. Only five participants were first‐time offenders. Twenty‐seven participants had multiple felony convictions, with totals ranging from two to over ten, and two former offenders had over twenty‐five felony convictions. Nineteen participants had committed a crime involving drugs or alcohol, thirteen had committed a property offense, seven had committed a violent offense, two had committed a sexual offense, and three had committed multiple driving infractions that resulted in a felony conviction. Lifetime incarceration totals also varied, ranging from one to twenty‐three years. Similarly, longest single incarceration period ranged from one to eight years. All former jurors (seven) were men, self‐identified as “white,” and ranged in age from twenty‐five to forty‐four. Of the participants who had been summonsed but not selected (six), three were men and three were women. In this subgroup, ages ranged from thirty to fifty‐five and all participants self‐identified as “white.” The prospective juror subgroup (nineteen) consisted of fourteen men and five women. Their ages ranged from twenty‐two to fifty‐three and all but two of those participants self‐identified as “white.” Once a participant agreed to take part in the study, we arranged an interview time. Participants had the option of conducting their interviews via telephone or in person. Twenty‐seven participants engaged in an in‐person, recorded interview. The locations of the interviews varied, but in all instances they were private locations where responses were not overheard. The remaining five participants took part in recorded phone interviews. Interviews ranged from thirty to ninety‐six minutes, and they were fully transcribed for analysis. I analyzed data using a sequential process of open coding, theme construction, and focused coding (Esterberg 2002; for a discussion of the thematic approach to analysis, see Braun and Clarke 2006). I initiated each interview by asking participants to describe their postrelease reintegration and dealings with the criminal justice system. Specifically, I asked participants how they navigated their postprison adjustment and what obstacles, if any, they faced as the result of their criminal conviction. Interviewees typically spent roughly one‐third of our interview on this initial topic. Interviews then varied slightly by participant. For those who had previously served as jurors or who had been summonsed but did not serve, I then inquired about their experiences during those processes. I asked those participants to describe how they felt about jury service generally, the jury selection process, and their inclusion in that process. For prospective jurors who had never been called, I asked their opinions about jury service, and how they might approach the process were they to receive a summons. In virtually every instance, participants spent roughly two‐thirds of our interview describing their experience with and thoughts on jury service. At the close of each interview, interviewees were provided $30 for their participation. Since this study explores how convicted felons experience the jury system and their role in that system, I sought out and utilized methods that gave participants the freedom to provide detailed descriptions and complete accounts. In keeping with prior research on civic participation and criminal desistance (Uggen, Manza, and Behrens 2004; Manza, Uggen, and Behrens 2006; Miller and Spillane 2012; see also Maruna 2001; Farrall 2002; Giordano, Cernkovich, and Rudolph 2002; King 2013a, 2013b), I chose to employ in‐depth, semistructured interviews. Common in exploratory studies (King 2013b), such interviews allow participants to fully describe their reintegration efforts and their interactions with the jury process.

Findings Several themes emerged from my interviews with former offenders in Maine. These themes reveal no discernable trends with respect to participants’ demographic characteristics and criminal histories. First, contrary to the rationales for felon jury exclusion, participants emphasized the significance of jury service, typically bringing their behaviors and anticipated behaviors in line with those expected of what they perceived as an ideal juror. Second, participants’ descriptions of their experiences with reintegration and the jury process reveal that others’ perceptions of them matter a great deal. These perceptions, when negative, led to feelings of hopelessness and defeat. Conversely, when positive, the views of others—including those of the state—seemed to empower participants, such that they saw their inclusion in the jury process as an indication that the state recognizes their social and civic reinstatement. Finally, this perception often gave rise to feelings of worth that were later incorporated into personal narratives where, in the context of jury service, participants stressed the value of criminal past. Taking On the “Juror” Role and Conscientiously Serving Certain structural theories of personal transformation suggest that former offenders who take on conventional adult roles conform behaviorally to those roles, assuming role‐related responsibilities and adhering to role‐related constraints (Laub and Sampson 1993; Sampson and Laub 1993, 2005). Over time, some scholars argue, behavioral conformity leads to shifts in how former offenders view themselves (Matsueda 1992; Sampson and Laub 1993; Matsueda and Heimer 1997; Laub and Sampson 2003). In the present study, the data tend to support this hypothesis, demonstrating that former offenders possess a high level of respect for the jury process, seek to conform to what they perceive as the state's expectations of an exemplary juror, and ultimately incorporate the characteristics of the juror role into their own self‐concepts. 2003 Rector v. State 1983 If you're a juror and you're to do the job of a juror, in the state of Maine, you have to prove without a reasonable doubt that the person's guilty or not guilty. So if the facts don't back up what's being, you know, brought against them then no, they shouldn't go to jail. But I mean if everything's in black and white and they're guilty, then obviously they should be found guilty. One justification for felon jury exclusion statutes is the assumption that convicted felons lack the character to serve as responsible jurors, and would approach the task irresponsibly (Kalt). As the Supreme Court of Arkansas has stated, “[u]nquestionably that exclusion is intended to bar from the jury box the one class of persons least likely to respect and give effect to the criminal laws” (, 395). Yet, participants understood clearly the role of juror, the weighty implications of the jury process, and the need to serve conscientiously and without bias. Jen, a prospective juror who indicated that she welcomed a jury summons, described a juror's responsibilities this way: Contrary to the “probity” rationale (Kalt 2003, 69) for felon jury exclusion, participants in the present study expressed an idealized view of the adjudicative process, typically stressing the significance of a jury trial and a juror's responsibilities. “When you're sitting on the legal side of it, you know, wow! It's like, I can't believe I was sitting on that side and now I'm over here, you know, deciding someone else's fate” (Mike, a former juror). At times, the respect participants afforded the jury prompted an unwillingness to serve based on the perceived weight of a juror's task. “No. I wouldn't want to be judgmental. Period. No, no. I wouldn't want to period. I wouldn't want to … have that say” (Joe, a prospective juror). For Mark, a former juror who spent 1.5 years in prison, his inclusion in the jury process seemed at odds with other record‐based restrictions impacting what he perceived to be less important behaviors: “I was … confused. On the one hand … they would let me go in, be able to judge a person, okay. But on the other hand, I can't own a gun?” I just said … “you gotta go from what you really see.” ‘Cause, there was like two ladies that had never been on a jury, and they were like, “We're not gonna make no decisions.” And, I said, “You have to go with what you see. The evidence. Everything that you get, that we've already been through, you have to weigh that out. You can't just say yes or no. …” I even got up and put all this stuff on the chalkboard that, the pros and cons. (Chris, a former juror) While emphasizing the enormity of a juror's responsibility, most former jurors reported taking an active, productive role in deliberations: A second justification for excluding convicted felons from jury service is the presumption that felon‐jurors would harbor resentment toward the state and an undue sympathy for criminal defendants (Kalt 2003). In the view of the Supreme Court of California, a felon‐juror “might well harbor a continuing resentment against ‘the system’ that punished him and equally unthinking bias in favor of the defendant on trial, who is seen as a fellow underdog caught in its toils” (Rubio v. Superior Court 1979, 101). I don't think knowing I've done jail time and had the experiences I've had behind bars would impact how I would answer to somebody else in the same situation. I've been out; I've been away from it for so long, and like even, I've been off probation for four years now, it's just part of my life that I went through, and I've grown up. And, I've separated myself from it. You know, it's not so fresh. So, I wouldn't, I wouldn't feel bad if someone, if that's the consequence and they were guilty, that would, that's what I would have to do. Running counter to the assumption that convicted felons would sympathize unduly with criminal defendants, participants emphasized the importance of impartiality, even in cases similar to their own. Jimmy, who was excused during the jury selection process, explained that he has disassociated himself from his distant criminal past, such that his conviction would have no bearing on his role as juror: I think I would more take in … the facts that were presented to the jury and go from there because I've known people that have had the same charge as me, and, you know, they pretty much get away with it. Um, but, you know, there are some people that, you know, it depends on like why they did it. Like in my instance. I did it because I was homeless, I had no money, and I was trying to survive. But if it were somebody that was doing it, you know, just because, you know, just for the thrill of it, I would not be sympathetic whatsoever. Tom, a prospective juror, expressed similar sentiments with regard to his conviction for burglary of a motor vehicle, discounting the notion that he might exhibit leniency for a criminal defendant on trial for a similar offense: But, I sat right there, and you know, everything was pretty clear. And, then the way the, you know, the way the law was read, it was like, “He blew it.”… I figured, you know, they gave me the trust enough to sit on this jury, to do what had to be done, whether it was guilty or not guilty. For most former jurors, the state's trust motivated them to approach jury service thoughtfully and impartially. Doug, a former juror described his jury service, noting: It could be the same crime that I got my felonies with [and] I'd have to be impartial. But that's just the way I am. I'd just be impartial. Now I wouldn't say, “Well, ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, I did two years for the same thing and this and that and no, not guilty.” No, no. [T]hat's not me. I did mine; you do yours. Several other participants echoed Kevin's sentiments. “I wouldn't have a problem saying somebody was guilty. Yeah, I mean if I believe that somebody was wrong at doing something then I believe that. I mean I was wrong at what I did. You know?” (James, a prospective juror). “[I]f someone's guilty, they're guilty, I'm sorry. But, I mean, I was guilty for what I did, so I know I deserved to be in jail for a while” (Neil, a former juror). In stark contrast to the assumed leniency on the part of convicted felons, almost all participants compared their own circumstances to those of potential defendants and suggested an inclination to convict out of a sense of fair play and deservedness. Kevin, a forty‐eight‐year‐old man who spent two years in prison for robbery, explained succinctly:Several other participants echoed Kevin's sentiments. “I wouldn't have a problem saying somebody was guilty. Yeah, I mean if I believe that somebody was wrong at doing something then I believe that. I mean I was wrong at what I did. You know?” (James, a prospective juror). “[I]f someone's guilty, they're guilty, I'm sorry. But, I mean, I was guilty for what I did, so I know I deserved to be in jail for a while” (Neil, a former juror). Though the vast majority of participants felt confident in their abilities to approach a case responsibly and even‐handedly, many suggested that they had the ability—and, perhaps more importantly, the duty—to discern their own shortcomings and partiality. For example, Anna, a prospective juror, explained that while she anticipates taking a thorough approach to jury service, she has never before considered both sides of a litigated matter. “Well, I'd want to know all of the evidence. I'd want to know, you know, the whole side of each story. And that's where I don't have experience. I only have experience on my side, you know. I'm always the defendant.” Anna's insightful reflections on her own ability to serve impartially and considerately were not uncommon among participants. Most participants recognized their own limitations as jurors. Mary, a prospective juror who was the victim of domestic violence, notes that her prior experiences would make her an unfit juror. “Yeah, I mean if it was a child molester or somebody that abused their wife I would tell them right out that I personally have experience and I wouldn't want anything to do with it. You know, like I wouldn't be a good [juror].” If it was something like maybe, you know, an older man molesting a child or something I would not, I wouldn't be able to do that. You know what I mean? Because I would be—what's the word I'm looking for? Like right off the gate, I would want to convict. In fact, many participants suggested that their fitness depends on the type of case at issue. Dave, another prospective juror, expressed a common sentiment with respect to crimes involving children and/or sexual offenses: Nearly all participants view the jury process as an important civic tool with far‐reaching implications. Most spoke of jury service as a sobering experience during which one has another's life in one's hands. Notably, participants almost uniformly understood the legally mandated tasks of a juror: to act with care and impartiality. Perhaps not surprisingly, participants—both former jurors and anticipated jurors—also conformed or expressed the intention to conform to the juror role. For many, this conformity led to the internalization of characteristics of the ideal juror, such that almost all participants described themselves as an “impartial” and/or “neutral” person. Convicted Felons and the Significance of the “Looking Glass” A felony conviction gives rise to a multitude of legal and regulatory “structural impediments” (Chiricos, Barrick, and Bales 2007, 548; see also O'Brien 2001; Pager 2007; Weaver and Lerman 2010) restricting convicted felons’ access to many facets of civic and social life (Mauer and Chesney‐Lind 2003; Travis 2005; Love 2007). Convicted felons also face informal, interpersonal stigmatization (Goffman 1963; Irwin 1970; Aresti, Eatough, and Brooks‐Gordon 2010). In response to these “cumulative disadvantages” (Samson and Laub 1997, 134), many convicted felons internalize their legal status (Cooley 1902; Mead 1934; Sullivan 1947 [“the looking glass”]; Kinch 1963; Paternoster and Iovanni 1989 [“reflected appraisals”]; Matsueda 1992; Gecas and Schwalbe 1983 [“labeling theory”]). Often, the “felon” label and all its pejorative accompaniments become a former offender's identity (Becker 1963; Braithwaite 1989), resulting in a lack of confidence and negative self‐esteem (Tajfel and Turner 1986; Major and O'Brien 2005; Aresti, Eatough, and Brooks‐Gordon 2010). In this way, a felony conviction can profoundly impact self‐concept (Rasmussen 1996; Pager and Quillian 2005; Aresti, Eatough, and Brooks‐Gordon 2010). When describing their reintegration (and, for some, their prior attempts at reintegration), participants consistently suggested that the felon label hindered their efforts to rebuild their lives. Yet, participants rarely mentioned formal legal barriers to reintegration. Instead, for most, how others “looked at them” stood as their most significant reentry hurdle. John, a twenty‐six‐year‐old man who pled guilty to breaking and entering, underestimated the significance of a felony conviction: “I didn't think [the felon label] was this bad. I was unaware of the consequences … when I said okay to the deal of being a felon.” 2003 2003 2005 2007 It's just the same story with everybody. They seemed so interested until they read down your application and got to that question. You know? They were all smiles, and then you could kind of see the smile go away. You know what I mean? It's just all kinds of different. The way they look at you. In line with previous studies (Harding; Petersilia; Travis; Pager), participants emphasized their struggles to find jobs and stable living arrangements. Virtually every participant, at some point, had been denied employment as a result of a criminal past. Tyler, a thirty‐year‐old college graduate, described how his felony conviction often overshadows his otherwise marketable skill set in the eyes of potential employers: Participants also reported difficulties obtaining housing. Several individuals were homeless and described how their living situations affected their ability to “make it.” Jen, a woman who had difficulty finding housing because of her felony conviction, indicated that those concerns made it difficult for her to “get her act together.” “The biggest thing right now for me is being homeless. Without a common ground, without a place to put all my stuff, I can't get my head together to do anything. Um, so for the future—I have my hopeless days. Yeah, I do.” You know, it's like even nowadays you can't even get an apartment because you're a felon. Or it takes you forever now half the people don't want to rent to you. Or give you a job because you're a felon. Your past could be ten years from then and you still can't … I was homeless twice in one year. As they discussed their struggles to readjust postconviction, participants expressed frustration with the perpetual nature of the felon label. As Lisa noted: “They don't take the time to ask, like, you know what I mean? Like what was your crime? And how long ago was it? You know what I mean? Like I'm thirty‐five. It happened when I was twenty‐five, twenty‐six years old.” Similarly, Danielle, a forty‐four‐year‐old woman who spent five and a half years in federal custody for drug trafficking charges, found it inexplicable that her ten‐year‐old conviction still prevents her from finding a stable home or a steady job: Participants also demonstrated a level of hopelessness and questioned their own ability to succeed (see Maruna 2001, describing a “condemnation script”). “At first, when I first got out it was like, ‘You know, what's the fuckin’ purpose? You might as well just put me back in fuckin’ jail ‘cause I'm better off there’” (Jack). It really sucks because I feel that, you know, people look at you differently. Just because I have a felony, you know. Just because I did time in prison. They look at me as like, you know, a bad person. … And when they look at somebody that has a felony, you know, they try to steer away from them. They don't want anything to do with them. … Um, I don't know. It just really sucks. (Tom) In virtually all cases, participants’ hopelessness and despair was tied to their perceptions that they are outcasts in the eyes of others: For most participants, the negative perceptions of others consistently manifested as negative self‐images. Dawn, a forty‐five‐year‐old woman who lost her children as the result of a robbery conviction, flatly stated: “I feel like a piece of shit most times.” Another participant, Tyler, ostensibly measured his value by his incarceration number and the rights and privileges he had lost. “I mean, to me, I'm more or less just a number. You know? I mean I can't do half of what a normal citizen can.” 1997 2004 [W]ell, let me give you an example. Like when I go back home and I see my high‐school friends or my school friends. They all have their own houses already. They have their own vehicles that are, you know, nice. They have a really good job to where they can do that, you know. And I come back home, I don't have any of that because I've had a rough life, you know, in and out of prison and whatnot. So when I'm around people like that I feel unaccepted. Another source of despair that seemed to chip away at participants’ self‐esteem was feelings that they failed to attain certain “life‐course markers” (Sampson and Laub; Uggen, Manza, and Behrens, 264) and that others judged them for failing to succeed. For instance, Carla, a thirty‐year‐old woman who had her three children removed from her because of her drug convictions, explained how she viewed herself in relation to “upstanding” people: For all participants, their reentry struggles and, in particular, others’ negative perceptions of convicted felons prompted them to reassess their own value. In this way, each participant's self‐image was shaped by his or her respective reintegration difficulties and the stigmatization he or she endured as the result of the felon label (LeBel 2012). These results highlight the importance of the looking glass and reflected appraisals in the lived experiences of former offenders. State Testimony: The Corroboration of Reformation Maruna et al. (2004) suggest that under certain circumstances, the recognition of a former offender's reformed behavior can prompt identity shifts. Drawing on prior research, they propose that a “delabeling” process (Trice and Roman 1970, 538; see also Lofland 1969 [“elevation ceremony”]; Meisenhelder 1977, 1982 [“certification process” or “destigmatization process”]; Braithwaite and Mugford 1994 [“integration ceremony”]) can facilitate identity shifts when affirmation of a former offender's change is part of an official, public ritual (Maruna et al. 2004; see also Maruna 2011). The delabeling process may also be moderated by the perceived status of the appraiser (Cast, Stets, and Burke 1999). Accordingly, Maruna et al. opine that the most influential assessments of a former offender's reformation may come from authorities in the criminal justice system (Maruna et al. 2004; see also Wexler 2001). Participants in the present study described their inclusion in the jury process as official recognition of their reformation. Mike, a forty‐year‐old former juror who had spent over four years in prison, explained that while jury service stood in stark contrast to his prior experiences with the criminal justice system, it represented a tangible, identifiable shift in his relationship with the state. “[Jury service] was kind of weird. I was always facing the judge, and you know doing jury duty you[‘re] kind of like working with the judge and the lawyers. And they're not, you know, getting ready to send your ass to jail.” Similarly, Mark, a forty‐four‐year‐old former juror with over twenty felony convictions, described jury service as a type of social access. As he explains: “I was glad I was able to be involved with [jury service]. That I was able to do that … that the judicial system let me in to do that.” It was like … I'd never had any problems. I was the same as everybody else in the room. Even … one of the courtroom marshals, who was in there when I got sentenced, he knew who I was. He was like, “I remember you.” And then he got me coffee! So that was pretty cool, I felt like the score had been … like evened out. (Doug, a former juror) All former jurors indicated that the experience was uplifting, suggesting that taking part in the adjudicative process gave them a sense that had “paid their debt to society” and no longer bore the mark of a felony conviction. For most, their interactions with court personnel solidified this perception of themselves: I felt like … I wasn't trying to get away with something, it just felt like I was not judged by somebody. Because, I was there the whole time. Everybody, you know, all the guards treated me with respect like everybody else. They fed us. They, you know, it was just like a normal thing. You know, and, and I always try to do, now, anything that's normal; I go places just to be with people, to, so they're not lookin’ at me, ‘cause they don't know me. You know, if I go into a crowd of people, it's, I feel like, “Oh, you don't even know that I'm a felon.” You know, then when you go around somebody that knows, then they're actin’ like you're a bad person and you're not, you know? It's funny how—it really is funny—unless you're in that position, you don't know. (Chris, a former juror) Another juror expanded on this concept: 1969 I mean [felon jury inclusion] kinda sends a message that … the courts … won't always exclude you from … sitting on, you know, civic duty. They may not always select you and you may not always be needed, but … you can say you tried. You showed up when you got served. [T]his side, you know, always having, again, having looked at things from the unlawful side and then the court says, “Well, we need you to, we need your help to make some of the right decisions.” And it's kinda cool. … They said, “We're gonna hand you this responsibility. Do you what you need to do with it.” You're not used to being, when you're not used to being given responsibility and always being left out because, “Oh, screw that guy. You know, he's got a record. We don't need his help. We'll find somebody … who obeys the law and always makes the right decisions.” So it's like, wow. They're gonna give me responsibility and, you know, try to get me to make the right decision. Former jurors also described jury service as a symbolic show of trust by the state, characterizing jury service as a public proclamation that they were now acceptable (Lofland). Mike, a former juror, noted: I mean, [jury service] gives you, [the state] gives you a responsibility to do somethin.’ I mean, anywhere else you go, you can't do nothing,’ you're like segregated from everybody else. … Jury service made me feel better, because I mean, right now, as it stands, I mean, it feels like I'm being segregated from everybody else. I feel like … we're back in time where it was blacks against whites, and blacks couldn't go to white schools, blacks couldn't sit at the front of the bus. Now it's the same for convicted felons. Jack, a former juror, also described jury service as a show of trust by the state. Comparing the stigma of a felony conviction to that associated with racial prejudice, Jack expounds on how jury inclusion helped temper his feelings of social exclusion. Well, [being a convicted felon] just makes, you know, it kind of makes you feel like you're lower … than the rest of the community … like you ain't no good or anything. … It makes you feel kind of lower … like you're not human, you know, or somethin’ like that. But, it was alright when I got that [jury summons]. … Sometimes I feel really … ashamed that I've been in trouble, and when I was called to serve on a jury trial, it's more like, you know, it's more like, “Oh, yeah. I'm part of society.” Like former jurors, participants who had taken part in the jury selection process, but who were ultimately not selected to hear a case, reported feeling “significant” and “valuable” when the state asked them to participate in the jury process. Keith, a fifty‐three‐year‐old man who has spent approximately twenty‐three years in prison, explained that his jury summons seemed to mitigate the stigma of his criminal past: [Felon juror eligibility] makes me feel like I'm still part of society. Instead of just, because most of the people like to outcast. … They have their little normal, you know, once you're stoned on something that's pretty much what it is. They, that's all they're gonna look at you as … [jury service eligibility] means that I still have some kind of say in this world. Participants who had served as jurors or who had participated in jury selection also emphasized that felon juror eligibility represents the state's recognition that convicted felons’ opinions matter and are as important as the perspectives of nonfelons. “It makes you feel kind of good that they do actually give you the option [of serving on a jury] … that they will allow you to speak as everybody else. I think that's a pro in my opinion” (Billy, a former juror). Jimmy, who answered a jury summons but was excused, explained that jury service reinforces the value of former offenders and their views: “I think [jury service] is a good thing. I mean, we're still people. It doesn't, I mean, just because we have a felony doesn't mean … our voice isn't important.” Along the same lines, Danielle, a dismissed juror, tended to view jury service as a platform for expressing her thoughts and effectuating change: Now it's like, you know, I never really knew I could until, like I said, a few years after my conviction. But once I found out I could I cared. You know? And I wanted to. You know? [Laughing.] So it's like once I found out I could it was, “Oh, cool. You know, at least I have one more right.” I can do something. (Tyler, a dismissed juror) In general, participants who had experienced the jury process saw jury service as a welcomed task representing their social reinstatement: 2006 Like I could really care less if I [was] called to jury or whatever … it's not really important to me to be selected for jury duty. Um, I mean I don't think it's really important, but it is good that they do [include convicted felons] because they've gone through the court system, they know what happens on the inside, and, you know, so they have a good understanding. Consistent with prior research, prospective jurors’ attitudes about jury service were more varied (Hannaford‐Agor and Munsterman). Some prospective jurors placed little value on their inclusion in the jury process, but emphasized that overall there are benefits to Maine's policy of allowing convicted felons to serve. As Jack explained: [Juror eligibility] is something that makes me feel like I'm still part of what everyone else is just because I got … in trouble and went to prison for it. I just feel like … in that aspect they're not looking at me like that. You know what I mean? Like if I was called to be on jury duty I'd feel good, you know what I mean? That I was able to get out there and do that. Just, knowing that lawyers and judges and all that are still asking me to, you know, come up to help them if I can. And it just makes me feel good that I can do something like that. Most prospective jurors, however, spoke favorably about felon jury inclusion, suggesting that juror eligibility fosters a sense that former offenders are still part of society and worthy of the state's trust. Carla, a prospective juror, explains: [Felon juror eligibility] allows a person that's a felon to continue to have the same rights as other people. You know what I'm saying? Because most of the time when you're a convicted felon you lose a lot of rights. (Henry, a prospective juror) I think [felon juror eligibility] is good. I don't think, I think that that's something that they should judge on an individual basis, whether or not they should allow you on a jury, and I don't think that because you're a convicted felon, I don't think you should lose all your rights. (Jeff, a prospective juror) Other prospective jurors described jury service in much the same way, often discussing their eligibility as part of a broader framework of rights. everything away” (James, a prospective juror). Like I said it just seems like, for me, it's knowing that, you know, I can do something that everyday people do, you know? Even though I'm a convicted felon, you know. I don't have that pressed against me. (Bob, a prospective juror) Overall, participants who were juror eligible but had not been summonsed viewed their inclusion in the jury pool as a small measure of validation, assuring them that they were not outcasts. “Yeah, I think that [felon juror eligibility] is good. I mean. … I believe that, you know, I mean truthfully yeah. It does make me feel a little better to know that, you know, that they haven't takenaway” (James, a prospective juror). A common theme in former offenders’ views of jury service and juror eligibility is the idea that inclusion in the process changed how others, in particular the state, “looked at them.” For some, the state's acceptance and show of trust manifested as cordial treatment by court personnel. For others, simply being part of the jury pool sent a symbolic, but nonetheless impactful, message that they had moved past their criminal record. Most spoke of feeling equal to nonfelons and feeling as though inclusion gave them an outlet through which to voice their opinions and concerns. In addition, the state's “testimony” (King, 2013a, 155) or “personal voucher” (Maruna et al. 2004, 275) seemed to prompt participants to find value in themselves and their new identity as jurors or prospective jurors. Inclusion and the Discovery of Self‐Worth As Maruna notes, the “self‐narrative frequently involves reworking a delinquent history into a source of wisdom” (2001, 117). In this way, part of narrative construction involves a former offender's ability to find a measure of self‐worth, which is often prompted by the “certification” of his or her reformation (Meisenhelder 1982, 137). Their value, many former offenders suggest, derives from the “experience of having ‘been there and back,’” which has provided them “an insight into life or how the world works” (Maruna 2001, 98). Such reorganization allows former offenders to distance themselves from a criminal past while drawing on that past to explain how it makes one a better, more valuable person (Maruna 2001; see also, for a discussion of neutralizations, Sykes and Matza 1957; Maruna and Copes 2005). 2001 I think it's very valuable because you also see the other side of things, you know? If you've never been there you don't really see that side of it. But if you've already been there you can see both sides equally, rather than favoring to one side or the other. I think it makes almost like a fairer juror than, you know, somebody that doesn't know the experiences from the other side. (Billy, a former juror) In the present study, all participants offered some form of personal narrative and seemed to incorporate their worth as jurors into that narrative. For example, with respect to their fitness as jurors, participants in the present study found meaning and “literal value” in their criminal lifestyle (Maruna, 98). Participants suggested that those with a felony conviction bring something unique and valuable to the jury process, characterizing a criminal conviction as a positive attribute. We've had different life experiences, so we're trained without having official training to, to look at things differently, to not just take things for face value and to be able to look between the lines. It is more like having the street knowledge than book knowledge. There's definitely a difference there. Many participants highlighted the practical knowledge gained through experiences with the criminal justice system, opining that such knowledge made them more accurate judges of criminal defendants’ credibility. Jimmy, a thirty‐four‐year‐old man called for jury service but dismissed, explained that a criminal lifestyle amounted to a type of informal juror training: [Former offenders] have seen both sides. You know what I mean … you can't bullshit a bullshitter. You know what I mean? Like you know, been there, done that.… You can tell if someone's trying to bullshit you or someone, you know, you know the lies because you've said the lies. You've lived that life. Concisely articulating the perceived value of felon‐jurors, Lisa, a thirty‐six‐year‐old woman who committed a violent felony, suggested that former offenders possessed a unique ability to judge the credibility of witnesses and evidence accurately: 1997, 2012 2005 2013 I understand because I know what it's like, you know? I can put myself in their shoes, you know? I mean maybe like our charges aren't the same. Our case ain't the same, but I know what it's like to be through the law system, you know? (Gary, a prospective juror) Participants also stressed the importance of empathy in the context of jury service. Many explained that their experiences give them the unique ability to understand the perspective of a criminal defendant. In line with many scholars, participants saw empathy not as an indication of bias, but as a means of ensuring impartiality (West; Rackley; Lee). 2001 1982 1991 The best substance abuse counselors have abused substances. That's, you know, I mean it's fact of life. If somebody's lived it and been there, you know, they have sympathy and they will keep an open mind. That is why criminals make good jurors; they keep an open mind. And that is why I would be a good juror. Research tends to show that to find self‐worth, former offenders often need confirmation of their reformation (Maruna). In the present study, jury service and juror eligibility seemed to serve as a form of “certification” for former offenders (Meisenhelder, 137). Most saw themselves as assets to the criminal justice system because of, not despite, their criminal backgrounds. Jeff, a forty‐six‐year‐old violent offender who has spent over fifteen years in prison, summed up a common view among participants, likening a former offender's fitness as a juror to a former addict's value as a drug and alcohol counselor. Prior studies tend to support Jeff's contentions (Brown).

Discussion Though exploratory, this study suggests that felon jury inclusion urges conformity with the ideal juror role. This study further suggests that convicted felons approach jury service in a thoughtful, considerate fashion, contrary to the cited rationales for felon jury exclusion. This study also tends to demonstrate that juror eligibility facilitates changes in convicted felons’ self‐concepts, promoting prosocial identity transformation, tempering the stigma of a felony conviction and prompting the discovery of self‐worth. How participants conceived of the ideal juror role is enlightening. Most possessed idealized views of the jury process and jury service. Participants repeatedly emphasized the significance of a juror's task, stressing the need to act with care and neutrality. When describing their own experiences with the jury process, former jurors detailed their attempts to “live up to” their conceptualization of the ideal juror. Likewise, prospective jurors noted their intention to approach jury service impartially and conscientiously. For all participants, data tend to demonstrate a desire to conform to their image of the unbiased, careful juror. Evidence further suggests that for many, the ideal juror role shapes how they view themselves. These findings support prior research suggesting that the rationales for felon jury exclusion lack empirical support (Binnall 2014) and proposing that a former offender's identity may be shaped by democratic participation and a commitment to conventional citizen roles (Uggen, Manza, and Behrens 2004). In line with labeling theory and the looking glass hypothesis, participants in the present study emphasized the significance of how others “look at them.” Participants noted that the most formidable barriers to their reintegration stem not from legal or formal restrictions, but from others’ negative perceptions of convicted felons. For example, all participants faced setbacks in the realms of employment and housing. Still, very few participants cited occupational licensing rules or housing regulations as the cause of their setbacks. Instead, participants stressed that their inability to find work and/or a stable residence resulted directly from the interpersonal stigmatization and discrimination associated with the felon label. For some, these experiences led to the internalization of stigma, which negatively altered their self‐concept. Similarly, participants seemed to view felon jury inclusion as an official, powerful referendum on their rehabilitation. Former jurors, dismissed jurors, and prospective jurors characterized their inclusion in the jury process as a show of trust by the state. For former jurors, cordial treatment by court personnel evidences the state's confidence in their transition from “criminal” to “noncriminal.” For prospective jurors, felon jury inclusion is primarily a symbolic gesture, reinforcing the notion that they are “normal” and “equal” to their nonfelon counterparts. Overall, participants suggested that while it cannot entirely erase the stigma of a criminal past, felon jury inclusion confirms their personal change and dulls the attendant prejudice and ostracism of a felony criminal record. Maruna et al. (2004, 274) propose that a “delabeling process” publicly recognizing a former offender's reformation may prompt a prosocial identity shift. They further suggest that such recognition may be most potent when it comes from the criminal justice system (Maruna et al. 2004). The results of the present study tend to support those proposals. Seemingly responding to the state's “certification” (Meisenhelder 1977, 329) of their transformation, participants exhibited feelings of particularized personal value that they then incorporated into existing desistance narratives (Maruna 2001). Most saw themselves as unique assets to the jury process, stressing that a criminal past has worth, as it makes one an appropriately empathetic and critical juror. In this way, findings suggest that inclusion in the jury process can alter a former offender's sense of self by shaping his or her self‐narrative—evidence in line with Miller and Spillane's (2012) research on civic participation and criminal desistance. Most scholars agree that the identity and self‐image of a former offender are formed by both intrinsic motivations and structural influences (Vaughan 2007). The present study is consistent with this proposition. Inclusion in the jury process and the assumption of the ideal juror role do not define a convicted felon's self‐concept; instead, inclusion seems to send former offenders a message—that the state recognizes and trusts them as contributing citizens. This message then becomes part of a negotiated process that also involves the “upfront work” (Paternoster and Bushway 2009, 1157) of identity transformation. Most participants expressed a willingness and desire to serve as jurors, engaged in the discovery of self‐worth, and incorporated the characteristics of the ideal juror role into their own self‐narratives. Maine's policy of felon jury inclusion ostensibly initiates a strengths‐based (Maruna and LeBel 2003) or civic engagement (Bazemore and Stinchcomb 2004a, 2004b) approach to reintegration. By including convicted felons in the jury process, Maine officially recognizes former offenders’ transitions from criminal to citizen and provides them an avenue through which to give back to the community in a meaningful, productive way. In doing so, the state places the trust of the justice system in former offenders, unilaterally assigning them responsibilities and obligations. In turn, as the present study tends to show, offenders seem to honor their obligations. Perhaps most importantly, this study's participants who were summonsed by the state reported for jury service. Only three participants (roughly 9 percent) admitted to ignoring prior jury summonses and participants generally welcomed the opportunity to serve. These findings are in line with research on nonfelon juror response rates and views of jury service (Boatright 1998). Participants also fulfilled their commitment to the community by approaching the jury process conscientiously. The vast majority of US jurisdictions exclude those with a felony conviction from the jury process because felons purportedly lack character and/or harbor a bias that would prompt undue sympathy for criminal defendants. Contrary to these assertions, the participants in the present study expressed a high level of respect for the jury process. Those who were former jurors—all of whom voted to convict criminal defendants in their prior service—emphasized their efforts to remain critical, impartial jurors. Similarly, prospective jurors expressed no reservation about convicting a fellow citizen, even when the charged crime was similar to that for which they had been imprisoned. Conversely, in line with studies on citizens’ biases generally (Vidmar 1997), many participants exhibited a case‐specific, proprosecution bias in matters involving children and sexual crimes. This evidence seems to support prior empirical research calling into question the veracity of the rationales for felon jury exclusion (Binnall 2014) and it contradicts popular suppositions about convicted felons’ fitness for jury service. This study suggests that felon jury inclusion is a policy that may positively impact the reintegration of former offenders by taking advantage of their skills and ambitions with little risk to the state. Importantly, Maine takes the first step in the reintegration process, treating former offenders as assets rather than liabilities. For former offenders, the experience and prospect of serving as a juror seems to be a source of empowerment, helping them to see themselves as valuable members of the community. Importantly, convicted felons’ perceptions of themselves are central to their desistance from criminal activity (Weaver 2012). Scholars suggest that criminal desistance is not a termination event, but instead a process that divides into two phases: primary desistance and secondary desistance (Lemert 1951; Maruna et al. 2004). Primary desistance refers to a “crime‐free gap in the course of a criminal career” (Maruna et al. 2004, 19), while secondary desistance is the longer‐term cessation of criminal activity coupled with a prosocial change in a former offender's self‐concept (Maruna et al. 2004; see also Shover 1996; Maruna 2001; Giordano, Cernkovich, and Rudolph 2002; Vaughan 2007). The key distinction between a mere break in criminality (primary desistance) and a law‐abiding life (secondary desistance) may be “measurable changes at the level of personal identity or the ‘me’ of the individual” (Maruna et al. 2004, 19). Undoubtedly, felon jury inclusion alone will not result in long‐term criminal desistance or successful reintegration. Yet, as this study suggests, inclusion in the jury process may positively impact the views and attitudes of convicted felons. Maine's inclusive juror eligibility criteria appear to reshape a former offender's relationship with the state, such that those who were once banished now feel embraced. For the convicted felons who took part in the present study, this new relationship mattered and seemed to prompt a level of self‐esteem and self‐confidence that may facilitate—not guarantee—their efforts to remain law‐abiding, constructive citizens. While methodologically consistent with prior research on the civic marginalization of convicted felons, the design of this study is limited. Because Maine is the only US location that places no restriction on a convicted felon's opportunity to serve as a juror, it is the sole jurisdiction feasible for the present research. As a result, this study was subject to geographically specific limitations, most notably, Maine's racial homogeneity. Another location with a more diverse jury pool and/or convicted felon population may have yielded different results. Maine is also a comparatively rural, sparsely populated state, another factor possibly limiting the generalizability of this study. Yet, such a limitation is implicit in all qualitative fieldwork, and it does not undermine this important first step in exploring the potential costs and benefits of including convicted felons in the jury process. The present study evaluates the wisdom of including convicted felons in a venire. Data collected in Maine suggest that convicted felons may not pose a significant threat to the jury process, as is assumed in many other jurisdictions. Moreover, data also tend to show that, like other prospective jurors without a criminal conviction, those with a felony conviction who are given the opportunity to serve may benefit from such a show of trust and the corresponding responsibility. Still, further research is necessary. Of particular interest are the screening of felonious jurors in voir dire and the interactions between felonious jurors and nonfelon jurors during deliberations. Nonetheless, this study is a first step toward demystifying the role of the felon juror in our justice system, clarifying commonly held presumptions about those with a criminal history, and reinforcing the transformative power of civic engagement and democratic participation.

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