Calling That Third Strike Against Felons

T here’s little window slits in the dorm. I never look through them, out at I-5 or Magic Mtn, ‘cause it’s like a taunt: “This is what you used to have.” Sorry to be so morose . . . the system is grinding us down, my sweet wife & I . . . it gets to the point where, wearily, you just take whatever the court rams down your throat. . .

Brian Frederick Simpson, my new pen pal, writes a good letter. But then, not many robbery suspects awaiting trial in L.A. County took classes at UCLA. This correspondence came from the Pitchess Honor Rancho in Saugus.

Simpson, who is 40, has a rap sheet that dates back at least 14 years, graduating from petty theft to burglary to robbery. A 1986 probation report recounts that he was arrested outside an apartment with rubber gloves and a pry bar. The prose is as flat as Joe Friday: “Defendant acknowledged his wrongdoings stating it was a foolish, spontaneous and desperate act resulting from his poor financial condition.”

Spontaneous? In Simpson’s car, police found goods taken in a burglary an hour earlier. They later found other stolen items and traced them to four burglaries. The victims included Simpson’s father and three other people “known to the defendant.”

And now Brian Simpson, facing a possible 17 years in prison, wants to be my friend. He wants my help.

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Don’t know if I can help. Not sure I want to. But as crime-weary Californians ponder the marquee anti-crime measure known as “three strikes and you’re out,” the Simpson case is worth a good, hard look.

Simpson isn’t a newsworthy criminal. He’s no Richard Alan Davis. But if the “three strikes” measure were law today, Brian Simpson wouldn’t be facing 17 years, he’d be looking at life. This would cost taxpayers $25,000 per year. Say he lives to age 81. That’s $1 million.

Simpson is a Valley boy who grew up in Tarzana. His passions, it seems, were music and drugs. To augment his record collection he pilfered LPs. To support his taste for crystal methamphetamine he did burglaries.

For years he’s been in and out of custody. The last time Simpson entered prison was in January, 1989. A few months later he met a woman who’d come to Chino to visit a brother and do Christian outreach. Brian and Christine were married in ‘90, well before his release in November, ’91.

He moved in with Christine and her children in Sylmar. Brian sought drug counseling but didn’t stick with it. Christine’s prayers weren’t answered.

Simpson has sent me seven or eight letters. He likens himself to “Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde,” blaming his problems on his “slavish addiction, fatal affinity” for methamphetamine. He pleads to be placed in a rehab program, but even his own attorney says it may be too late for that.

Given his record, Simpson’s troubles may be rooted in more than drugs. Criminologists suggest that burglary itself can be addictive, much like gambling.

Simpson was last arrested May 14 while (allegedly) burglarizing the home of a 95-year-old Santa Monica woman. Authorities say he was surprised by a boarder who happened to be a highway patrolman. Simpson (allegedly) struck the patrolman with a Christmas stocking loaded with valuables, including a metal box. Thus, the charges include robbery.

Supporters of the “three strikes” measure should think about this scene: the common burglar surprised in the act. Strangely, “three strikes” lumps several “serious felonies” that are nonviolent with violent crimes. In other words, the two-time loser is facing life if he takes a hostage--and life if he doesn’t.

Sheriff Sherman Block, not known for sympathizing with criminals, has questioned the wisdom of “three strikes” because of its cost and its failure to discriminate between violent and nonviolent crimes. Daniel Glaser, USC professor emeritus of sociology and past president of the American Society of Criminology, also has grave doubts.

Proponents of this get-tough measure seem blinded to the logic that such tough sentencing may actually encourage criminals to commit far greater crimes, such as the murder of witnesses to reduce the possibility of getting caught.

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Today, Simpson’s trial is scheduled to start. He was hoping to be placed in the California Rehabilitation Center, a prison drug treatment program. But because Simpson’s minimum possible sentence exceeds six years, he wouldn’t be eligible.

Christine prays that, somehow, her husband may find redemption. She finds strength in her faith that Brian “has accepted the Lord and is trying to turn around spiritually.”

Simpson’s latest letter arrived Wednesday. It began:

Can I tell you something man-to-man? I’m scared to death. I just am . . .