Sei sulla pagina 1di 35

Vikki Hankins

One Woman’s Fight For Her Civil Rights … One Party’s Quest To Keep Them From Her

A Defiant Republican Administration Plays Politics With Ex-Felons’ Rights As The Battle For 2012 Rages On

By: Mark Christopher

Cover photo by: Gian Pietri

Politics With Ex- Felons’ Rights As The Battle For 2012 Rages On By: Mark Christopher Cover


ikki Hankins is one of the most positive, forward-thinking individuals you will ever meet. She

ikki Hankins is one of the most positive, forward-thinking individuals you will ever meet. She has a great sense of humor and an unbelievable determination to succeed.

She is well spoken and full of spirit. She also has a degree and a fledgling publishing business.

All of which is quite remarkable considering what she has been through.

But there are some things that Vikki Hankins can't do. The State of Florida - under Gov. Rick Scott - won't allow it. She can't vote, sit on a jury or hold public office. She also can be denied certain state licenses.

Why? … Because Hankins is an ex-felon, and earlier this year, Scott and the rest of the Clemency Board voted 4-0 to revise the civil rights restoration process, making it more difficult for ex-felons to get their rights back.

Now Hankins and others like her will have to wait even longer before they can once again participate fully in society.

According to the Florida Attorney General's office, "The Florida Constitution, the people's charter of government, disqualifies an individual who has been convicted of a felony from voting or holding office until his or her civil rights have been restored."

And to get those rights restored, ex-felons have to go through the Office of Executive Clemency.

"The Clemency Board will review each application individually before deciding whether to grant restoration of civil rights," so said the Executive Clemency press release, issued at the time of the changes.

Those changes threw out the modernized clemency process that former Gov. Charlie Crist pushed through four years ago. Crist, a moderate Republican, restored the voting rights of more than 150,000 former non-violent prisoners.

It was something that people of all stripes from across the state had worked long and hard to accomplish.

But Scott and his hardcore conservative GOP brethren had other plans when they came into office - to make ex-felons wait an extra five to seven years before they could even think of getting their rights back.

"But in March, after only 30 minutes of public debate, Gov. Rick Scott overturned his predecessor's decision, instantly disenfranchising 97,491 ex-felons and prohibiting another 1.1 million prisoners from being allowed to vote after serving their time," Ari Berman wrote in the Sept. 2011 edition of Rolling Stone.

Hankins is one of those 1.1 million. And she is not happy about it.

"I don't think it is the governor's job or

everyone released from prison is going to commit crimes, says Hankins. "That's what the probation officers are supposed to do."

the attorney general's job to see whether or not


Photos: Office of Executive Clemency Gov. Scott and his Cabinet voted 4-0 to make the

Photos: Office of Executive Clemency

Gov. Scott and his Cabinet voted 4-0 to make the clemency changes

The governor and the attorney general - the two most powerful politicians in the state - disagree.

At the time of the clemency overhaul in March, Scott claimed that the changes would, "protect public safety and create incentives to avoid criminal activity."

But that statement flies in the face of felons who are out of work with limited options and a reduced amount of participation in American society. Labor officials say the jobless rate for felons runs as high as 60%. If I was trying to push an ex-felon back into a life I crime, I would deny them their civil rights as long as possible.

Build resentment and mistrust of government. Make them feel like an outsider. We've got something you don't. Give people who've already proven to be willing to commit crimes against their fellow citizens a reason to disengage from society.

That's exactly what you don't want to do - or so says the data from Virginia, which "has achieved lower-than-average recidivism rates is difficult to pin down . One likely factor, though, is lack of parole," according to experts interviewed by The Washington Post.

And even the Board of Executive Clemency press release that announced the changes accepts the notion that restoring a prisoner's rights is a good thing, stating that, "The restoration of civil rights can be a significant part of the rehabilitation of criminal offenders and can assist them in reentry into society."

No matter, Attorney General Pam Bondi feels that ex-felons must earn their rights back.

"I believe that every convicted felon must actively apply for the restoration of his or her civil rights and that there should be a mandatory waiting period before applying," Bondi press released back in February. "The restoration of civil rights for any felon must be earned, it is not an entitlement."


Photo: Gian Pietri/Sunshine Slate Images Vikki Hankins would like to vote in the 2012 election

Photo: Gian Pietri/Sunshine Slate Images

Vikki Hankins would like to vote in the 2012 election

Civil Rights Not An Entitlement?

Sure, our state constitution spells out that they ex-felons must have their civil rights restored, but

it doesn't say how long they have to wait. That is left up to whoever is in power at the time.

Politicians making decisions about people's civil rights based on nothing more than a feeling. Or

a talking point.

Or a political ideology. An April 2001 Schroth and Associates Poll that sampled 600 adult Floridians showed that by huge margins, that a vast majority of Republicans simply do not support restoring the voting rights of felons.

Percentages who support "restoring the voting rights of felons":

African-American community





18-34 year olds


Non-Cuban Hispanics


Those who did not vote in the presidential election last fall


Persons undecided about whether they will vote in the 2002 Florida elections




But logic - and available data - would dictate that assimilating ex-felons back into society is a good thing. Don't we, as a society, want to welcome them back, to give them positive reinforcement and to feel part of the tribe again, so they don't turn back to crime?

The official state answer under Gov. Scott is a resounding "no." Before an ex-felon can get possibly their rights back, Florida now requires that:

Five years have passed since the date of completion of all sentences and conditions of supervision imposed for all felony convictions, and you must remain crime and arrest free for five years prior to being reviewed by the Florida Parole Commission.

And that's just for non-violent offenders. What about ex-felons who they deem committed a "serious" crime? Those people must wait seven years.

The restoring of one's civil rights is supposed to be a routine exercise, a simple filing of paperwork. You do your time, you make it through probation, and then you get to rejoin society, which includes having your civil rights, dignity and the basis-for-respect back.

Not in Florida. The rules are different here (sorry to reanimate the corpse that is Florida's famed - and much-maligned - tourism slogan from the mid-'80s). The state's citizens now have less options for voting, less access to polls and outright disenfranchisement from a 100% Republican-controlled state government.

Now, ex-felons are a political football for the Republicans in charge to toss around, and Gov. Scott is the star quarterback who threw a touchdown when he changed the rules to the ultra- conservatives' satisfaction.

But not everyone was high-fiving or dunking coolers of Gatorade on Scott's head. His decision and that fateful 4-0 vote caused an uproar throughout the state and across the country, not surprising as polls indicate that the citizens don't agree with Scott's position.


Video still frame of "The Rules Are Different Here" ad campaign TV spot Groups who

Video still frame of "The Rules Are Different Here" ad campaign TV spot

Groups who monitor civil rights were outraged. Challenges were launched on a variety of fronts, including through talking-head media appearances, press releases, and in the courts.

In April, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) sent a letter to the U.S. Department of Justice asking them to review the decision claiming that it is a violation of the federal Voting Rights Act prohibiting racially discriminatory voting practices.

“Given the fact that the new five year waiting requirement has a direct impact on voting, and given its adverse impact on minorities, we believe the Department of Justice should request Florida officials to submit the new rule for [review],” Laughlin McDonald, director of the Voting Rights Project of the ACLU, wrote in the letter.

“These new rules have a direct impact on who is able to vote in Florida,” McDonald said. “Given the troubling history of suppressing minority votes in Florida, it is critical that the Department of Justice review these changes to ensure that an entire segment of the population is not blocked from exercising their fundamental right to vote.”

Howard Simon, executive director of the ACLU of Florida, also chimed in, claiming that, “The changes, including the secretive and rushed process by which the rules were created, smack of raw politics and intentional, racially focused election manipulation."


Back in March, the Board of Executive Clemency approved the changes with little debate or public comment, save for a 24-page proposal made public only minutes before the vote.

“Once a person has paid their debt, they should be quickly and fully integrated back into the community,” Danielle Prendergast of the ACLU of Florida, was quoted as saying in the media. “All the research supports this notion that fast, seamless and complete reintegration reduces crime.”

Instead, on its website, the ACLU of Florida warns the state's citizens that, "Applying for restoration of your civil rights opens you to investigation by the Florida Parole Commission. You may also have to undergo a hearing."

"The process is long, and there are no guarantees that your rights will be restored."

This is progress? Scott and Bondi seem to think so.

The Florida Legislative Black Caucus was similarly displeased in a press release protesting the new policy.

“The purpose of the corrections and criminal justice systems in this State is to equip ex- offenders with the tools they need to become productive citizens," stated State Sen. Gary Siplin (D-Orlando), Chairman of the Black Caucus. "How can they do that when they don’t have a citizens’ basic rights?”

A March 4 letter to the Florida Office of Executive Clemency was co-written and signed by the

ACLU, the NAACP Legal Defense and Education Fund, the Sentencing Project and a professor

at New York University’s Brennan Center for Justice. The letter stated:

It is well documented that Florida’s criminal disenfranchisement laws are a relic of a discriminatory past. Florida’s disenfranchisement law was enacted after the Civil War when the Fifteenth Amendment forced the state to enfranchise African-American men.

The voting ban was an attempt to weaken political power of African-Americans, and it continues

to have its intended effect today. The current law continues to exclude African-Americans from

the polls at more than twice the rate of other Florida citizens.

And on March 25, the NAACP, the NAACP Legal Defense Fund and the Advancement Project wrote Bondi requesting that the Attorney General submit the new rule changes for review under Section 5 of the federal Voting Rights Act.

AG Bondi declined. On April 8, she replied that “[w]e do not agree that the [Voting Rights Act] applies to these rules.”

Many Police Support The Governor's Stance On Disenfranchising Ex-Felons

But there was support to be found for the changes from the cops and prosecutors who deal with criminals on a day-to-day basis: The Florida Police Chiefs Association, the Florida Sheriffs


Association and state attorneys all made it clear that they felt that ex-felons should have to wait longer to get their rights back.

“Convicted felons should be required to demonstrate why they should have their rights restored as well as document their commitment not to re-offend,” said Seminole County Sheriff Don Eslinger earlier this year.

“With so much recidivism, it’s only fair they prove they are committed to a life free of crime before their civil rights are restored,” Florida Police Chiefs Association president Peter Paulding was quoted as saying.

Something tells me he didn't look at the data. By his own words, Paulding should be against Scott's clemency changes because recent studies have found that felons who have gotten their rights restored have a lower recidivism rate than those who have not.

Besides, isn't that the job of the probation officer to determine whether or not a felon is ready to play nice with society again?

"The probation officer says '[I'm] on the right track, there's no need to keep [me] on probation until the year 2013," says Hankins. "Now, the governor is saying, 'screw that, keep Vikki Hankins in this position to see if she's gonna commit more crimes.'"

"I had the perfect structure for committing a crime , to go back [into prison]

floor on cement in the winter with a cold

suicidal thoughts."

Hankins obviously bristles at the assumption.

"I don't have to prove anything to anyone," she says.

I'm sleeping on the

But There May Be Hope On The Horizon For Hankins And The Millions Like Her

Florida Legislative Black Caucus member State Rep. Darryl Rouson (D-55) has filed a bill that would speed up the clemency for ex-felons like Hankins that have more than proven themselves to have worked their way back into society since being released.

And The Palm Beach Post reported last week that before their meeting, Gov. Scott told the Florida Legislative Black Caucus that he is open to revising the process that restores a felon's civil rights.

"We have got to figure out how to get people that have gone to prison back in society," Scott is quoted as telling the media, as reported by the Post. "On the other side we've got to make sure we don't do things that make it less safe than it is in our state. But absolutely, if there's more information, I'm very receptive."

When contacted by Sunshine Slate, the governor's office sounded a more ominous tone, a course correction of sorts.


Photo: Meredith Geddings Rep. Darryl Rouson (D-55) of St. Petersburg, debates in opposition to HB

Photo: Meredith Geddings

Rep. Darryl Rouson (D-55) of St. Petersburg, debates in opposition to HB 1355

"[Gov. Scott] is open to suggestions for ways to more efficiently process requests for clemency," offered deputy press secretary Jackie Schutz in an email. "Such suggestions will need to include ideas for funding any additional resources that may be required for more expeditious review."

Schutz also reminded Sunshine Slate that, "The Governor does not support felons automatically having their rights restored."

Bondi, also against automatic restoration, bangs the same hardline drum. Bondi's press secretary Jennifer Krell Davis told Sunshine Slate that, "Attorney General Bondi believes that felons must apply for the restoration of civil rights after waiting for a time long enough to demonstrate rehabilitation."

If there are changes are made after Scott's meeting with members of the Black Caucus, they will not come in the form of automatic restoration, for sure. Expect some sort of middle ground to be


Photo: Gian Pietri/Sunshine Slate Images Vikki Hankins at her Supervisor of Elections office reached, something

Photo: Gian Pietri/Sunshine Slate Images

Vikki Hankins at her Supervisor of Elections office

reached, something in the neighborhood of maybe 2.5 years for all ex-felons. But they would also have to do something about backlog and the waiting list or it could take years to catch up.

Scott & Co. may just simply be playing nice with the Black Caucus with no intention of giving any ground on the matter. That's politics.

Until then, Hankins and others like her will continue to push and prod Scott and Bondi to do what they see as the right thing. In fact, Hankins would like to see the decision-making process of whether or not someone can have their rights back taken out of the politicians' hands altogether.

"I don't feel like that's something for Tallahassee, for the office of Executive Clemency," says Hankins of the restoration of an ex-felon's rights. "They shouldn't be taking on the responsibility that a probation officer has [to declare someone rehabilitated]."


Voter Suppression - A Concerted Effort By Republicans

When Scott and the Republicans swept into office during the 2010 election, they ran several plays - some would say - designed to keep Democrats out of voting booths, at least through the 2012 election cycle.



Keeping ex-felons from getting their rights back is a big part of that effort alongside the provisions in HB 1355:

forcing provisional ballots (excluding people who move a lot from voting)

cutting the duration of early voting (hurts blacks and students)

making absentee ballots harder to cast (requires the elderly to match their signatures on file, even with disabilities)

fining of third-party voter registration groups for not turning in forms within 48 hours (severely limits volunteerism)

Just last month, Florida Secretary of State Kurt Browning filed a complaint that said parts of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 were unconstitutional. Browning was hoping to use that as a first strike against the inevitable case coming down from the U.S. Justice Department. A bold move considering the possible negative fall-out that could come from challenging the landmark legislation in court.

The idea was to end the federal government's watchful eye over five Florida counties that fall under the act's jurisdiction so that the new voter suppression laws could go into effect and not be reviewed on constitutional grounds.

Throughout this push to disenfranchise voters and limit access to the polls, Florida Republicans have used the battle cry of "voter fraud" to make their case.

Problem is, they don't have one - the Florida Department of State noted only 31 cases of alleged voter fraud between 2008-2011. Only two of those cases resulted in arrests. Not exactly

a big problem, by any measure.

Nationally, the fraud figures are the same: a 2002-2007 U.S. Justice Department report showed that federal prosecutors convicted only 86 people for voter fraud - out of 300 million votes cast (many were felons and immigrants who were unaware that they couldn't participate).

A 2007 paper by the Brennan Center for Justice - reported on by Rolling Stone - laid it out in a

way that can be easily digested by those living in Florida: "It is more likely that an individual will be struck by lightning," the report calculated, "than that he will impersonate another voter at the polls."

But that type of fraud is not even an issue anymore as the state developed a voter database to confirm identities - a reaction to the tumultuous 2000 election cycle. Somebody would have to be pretty crafty - or have some help on the inside - to commit fraud at the polls in Florida.

Nonetheless, Republicans site it as a concern.


Photo: FL Dept. of State Florida Secretary of State Kurt S. Browning So Practically Zero

Photo: FL Dept. of State

Florida Secretary of State Kurt S. Browning

So Practically Zero Chance Of Fraud

Why Then The Changes?

Unfortunately, the real reason that voting laws are changing is simple: Republicans want to keep low-income voters, students, seniors, and minorities away from the polls. Those groups tend to vote Democrat.

The 2008 Obama sweep scared Republicans. They have been on the offensive ever since, doing whatever it takes to keep Democrats from casting votes. They feel that in close elections, the disenfranchisement strategy will yield one to two percentage-points at the polls - just enough to secure victories in many races.

But disenfranchising ex-felons could ultimately be damaging to the party's platform as a 2002 poll showed that 80% of those sampled say that ex-felons should have the right to vote.


Sen. Bill Nelson (D-FL) informed the governor that he will have to answer to the U.S. Justice Department for the state's actions. Nelson - a Washington veteran who might know a little about these things - says Florida must get federal clearance for “any changes to election laws that could impact racial, ethnic or language minorities.”

Many legal minds agree with Nelson and HB 1355 is currently under review by the U.S. Justice Department. But will a decision come down in time for the 2012 election?

The moves Florida has made have been so swift and so damaging to voters' rights that Florida has become a battleground with national voices jumping into the fray.

Always a voice for the oppressed, Rev. Jesse Jackson called Florida "ground zero" in a national war against voters' rights, according to the Orlando Sentinel.

"The irony is we fight wars for democracy abroad and declare war on democracy at home," Jackson said in a news conference over the summer, as reported by the Orlando Sentinel. "All we really want is an even playing field."

Even former President Bill Clinton weighed in. He was quoted in Rolling Stone as saying that, "One of the most pervasive political movements going on outside Washington today is the disciplined, passionate, determined effort of Republican governors and legislators to keep most of you from voting next time."

"Why is all of this going on? This is not rocket science," said the former President. "They are trying to make the 2012 electorate look more like the 2010 electorate than the 2008 electorate."

A Rolling Stone Gathers

Hankins first heard about what Gov. Scott was doing to the rights restoration process on the radio back, back in March or April.

"Is this true?" she remembered asking herself, before digging into the internet for answers.

It turned out to be 100% true. But she never thought of the restoration change as part of a political play until she read that article in Rolling Stone that spelled out in black and white the fact that Florida Republicans had passed the new rules to keep as many Democrats from voting as possible.

"It opened my eyes to what was really going on," says Hankins. "There was something about [it]

they had it laid out bang wake-up for me,"

the way it was put together. That Rolling Stone magazine

was the

She now feels like a pawn in some political chess match instead of a living, breathing person.

She decided right then that, "No, I am not going to be used for whomever for you all to gain some type of power, regain power, take control for x amount of years. Again, I am a human


Photo: Mark Christopher/Sunshine Slate Images President Bill Clinton in Orlando stumping for Kendrick Meek back

Photo: Mark Christopher/Sunshine Slate Images

President Bill Clinton in Orlando stumping for Kendrick Meek back in 2010

being, you are not going to use me as a pawn for selfish reasons, bottom line. For matters of power or control."

The Never-Ending Journey

Hankins first filed to have her rights restored in 2008. The first time we spoke, she had not yet

received any information on the status of her application. Not a letter, an email or a phone call.

And she has diligently tried to get through to somebody


When Hankins checked online it would say "Record Not Found." Repeated calls to the Executive Clemency Office were a dead-end - every time she got a recording.

"No one ever answers the phone," she says.

She wrote letters reminding them that since her release, she has earned a Paralegal Studies degree, but that she cannot maximize her educational efforts without her civil rights.


She has waited three long years for something, anything from the state.

But at last, on Oct. 20, 2011, Hankins received an email from Cynthia Deason, an administrative assistant for the Office of Executive Clemency. The email stated that Vikki Hankins would be

eligible to have her rights restored in

2017. And that's still a maybe.

Hankins was noticeably crushed. In 2017 she will be 49 years old.

Ms. Hankins - This is in response to your email inquiring about your restoration of civil rights and the time in which you can reapply based on your offenses.

As mentioned in the letter you received from this office dated October 20, 2011, Governor Scott and his Cabinet amended the Office of Executive Clemency rules March 9, 2011. Based on a person's offense, be it a violent crime versus a non-violent crime, is the time line in which you would have to wait before you can apply to have your restoration of civil rights restored. A non- violent crime you would have to wait five years from the time one comes off of probation or end of sentence and a violent crime you would have to wait seven years from the time one comes off of probation or end of sentence.

Based on your federal offenses, even though may not be considered violent crimes, falls under Rule 10A requiring a seven-year waiting period. Your supervised release was terminated on March 29, 2010, and therefore, you will not be eligible until the year 2017.

If you have any further questions or if this office can be of further assistance, please do not hesitate to contact us.

C.J. Deason

Office of Executive Clemency



Photo: Gian Pietri/Sunshine Slate Images Hankins will be almost 50 years old in 2017 Vikki

Photo: Gian Pietri/Sunshine Slate Images

Hankins will be almost 50 years old in 2017

Vikki Hankins: A Lifetime of Set-Backs

This latest set-back is only one in a series of unfortunate events for Vikki Hankins. Hankins, now 43, spent nearly half of her life in a federal prison for selling crack cocaine, then called "cocaine base."

Today, her federal sentence would be considered too long. Back in the late-'80s and early '90s, it was just right for reactionary legislators eager to tide the crack epidemic.

Yes, she was slinging crack cocaine, but she was also a victim of overzealous sentencing guidelines which were later deemed to be racially unjust by the 2000s-era Congress (Hankins is African-American).

Although she takes full responsibility for her actions, her drug dealing itself was a symptom of the trauma and depression she suffered just as she was graduating from high school. At the time, she suffered both physical and mental abuse and was forced into a hastily arranged marriage for religious reasons.

Her mother's worsening mental condition even played out in one final dramatic act.


And Hankins, a Jehovah's Witness since birth, was not very street smart and was ill-equipped to handle it all. She grew up in a strict home in tiny Crescent City, pop. 1800, which is a 30-40 minute drive North of DeLand.

It is the kind of place where everybody knows your name and your personal business, whether you like it or not.

"We would have to Palatka to get our school clothes," says Hankins of the small town upbringing.

Hankins was raised by her single-parent mother and grandmother in that small-town's sheltered environment. You know - church, school, more church. They were Witnesses, after all.

"Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday," says Vikki of her family's church going. "I didn't

participate in any extracurricular activities because our spirituality was number knocked on doors, that was my life."


At "15 or 16," she moved into grandma's house at her mom's insistence, the idea was for Vikki help take care of her recently widowed family matriarch. Instead, it turned out to be a recipe for disaster.

"When I wrote my book and reflected back on my life

mom moved me from my home to my grandmother's, is where I think admits Hankins. "My grades started failing and little things started

it was there, at that point, where my

I started changing," depression."

Her mother thought she could still hold the family together, and keep a tight grip on Vikki. She

thought wrong

sink deeper into a pit of despair.

and she knew it, too. The family started to disintegrate. Vikki's mom started to

But Vikki didn't really notice her mom's troubles; she was too busy sneaking around, which was

a breeze now that she was at grandma's. Although it wasn't until her senior year that a certain boy from her school came calling and swept her off her feet.

And Into A Lifetime Of Trouble

He was the star quarterback of the football team, but he was also a proven problem child who had been kicked out of his last high school.

She is still paying for that relationship almost 25 years later. And it all happened so fast.

Before Vikki even graduated high school, she was living with her new boyfriend at his dad's place. Her mom couldn't handle it at all.

"She was more stressed that I didn't know anything about boys or the world and society, because I had always lived such a sheltered and protected life," says Vikki. "For me to be out

with a 'street guy'

she was devastated."


Photo: FloNight Corner of N. Summit Street and E. Central Avenue in Crescent City Her

Photo: FloNight

Corner of N. Summit Street and E. Central Avenue in Crescent City

Her mom knew what bad things could happen to her little girl. And she was right, but was powerless to stop it.

Vikki quickly found out that life was indeed tough and suddenly grown-up outside of the warming confines of grandma's house. For instance, she had never seen smoking and drinking of alcohol before - and now it was all around.

And to make matters worse, her boyfriend was abusive and was using large amounts drugs, which, heretofore, Hankins had never even seen, let alone used.

"I didn't know what drugs looked like, from television

watched certain shows like Little House on the Prairie," claims Hankins.

[My mother] made sure

Her boyfriend's mood swings, violent outbursts and financial problems left Hankins shattered and disillusioned with it all. And to top it off, her boyfriend even beat her dad, who was visiting and tried to set the boy straight.

"For [my mother] to hear from strangers

'[I was] passed out in a ditch, and the guy that I was with beat up [my] dad and broke his ribs,'"

says Hankins recalling the horror show that was her life. "That's not good news."

someone calling her in the middle of the night


Still, Vikki thought that the best course of action was to not talk to her mom at all.


Photos: Supplied by Vikki Hankins (L-R)Vikki Hankins at 17, at 12-13 years old on her

Photos: Supplied by Vikki Hankins

(L-R)Vikki Hankins at 17, at 12-13 years old on her mom's wedding day, and before braces

"Being a Jehovah's Witness, if the child is not doing according to the teachings of the Witnesses, that the parents are supposed to remain separated from the children," says Hankins. "I was trying to abide by the teachings."

It didn't help, in fact it made them worse.

"It was starting to tear the family apart," said Hankins.

The Marriage

From Hell

Due to her religious upbringing, and at her mom's insistence, Hankins was pressured into marrying "the boy" at age 18. They hadn't even really dated, only some successful sneaking around with each other for about six months.

Her mother had decided it was the best course of action even though Vikki wasn't "supposed" to date anyone outside of the church, let alone get married to them. Mom was determined to right this ship and that started with wedding vows.


"I had no choice in the matter," says Hankins.

Vikki also had it in her mind that perhaps marrying the boyfriend would soothe her mother's ills,

to some degree, to make things OK with her

the church

the world.

It actually made them worse. Yes, another bad decision. She made quite a few back then.

"My mom had lent us her car to go get the blood test, that night is when she had [her first real]

mental breakdown. [She] was in a hospital when we stood before the

me standing there, spaced out Hankins.

I can still see

green to life, going through the motions. A zombie," recalls

"He was excited though."

Her new husband's drug use only escalated. He went from snorting cocaine to smoking crack. Hankins would find mini zip-lock baggies - commonly used to distribute drugs - all over the house.

Not being very streetwise, she didn't really know what they were for, so she didn't pay them much attention.

She did notice, however, that he was now demanding her meager paycheck she earned through hard labor, harvesting one of Florida's biggest foliage crops in the fields near Crescent City.

"That's when the abuse came in," says Hankins. "I was cutting fern taking care of him and I, because his habit had gotten so bad."

using my income to assist

Her whole family was naive to the persistence and creativity of a drug addict.

"One time, I gave my mom my money for the week and to keep it," Vikki remembers. He came looking for the money and she said no, that she had given the money her mom.

He promptly marched right over to her mother's house and got the money back and spent it on drugs. It wasn't the ideal marriage, for sure (if you could even call it a marriage).

"To this day I do not know what it feels like to be someone's wife, I don't know what that's about," admits Hankins. "I didn't see him as my husband."

First Brush With The Law

In another instance, her drug-addicted loser of a husband went to a nearby town and cashed a paycheck of hers and used the ill-gotten gains to buy drugs. Vikki thought she had lost the check and asked for another one to be drawn.

"He pretended that I'd lost it," remembers Vikki, still disgusted by her then-husband's actions.


Photo supplied by Vikki Hankins Vikki Hankins' high school graduation photo Check fraud charges were

Photo supplied by Vikki Hankins

Vikki Hankins' high school graduation photo

Check fraud charges were filed against Vikki, but later dropped when her employer realized what had happened via the signature evidence. That charge remained on her record, however. Hankins was now officially on the other side, considered to be a criminal to anyone with access to her records.

Eventually, the drugs and drug dealing caught up to her husband and the pair had to hit the road, becoming nomads, moving from hotel to hotel and always short on cash.

"I knew nothing of days," recalls Hankins.


This went on for more than a year. Then one day, he suddenly wanted to head back to Crescent City.

"We got a room

the store asked me if my mom was OK," says Hankins. "I said 'yeah, she's fine.'"

and the next morning we stopped at

a 7-11 and a person on the outside of

The person quickly realized that Vikki had not heard the news of her mother shooting herself.

"That's how I found out that my mother had committed suicide," says Hankins. "My life shifted


I changed inside. I just didn't care. I wanted to die too."

Now young Vikki was really in a deepened pit of despair. Her marriage was a joke, her husband

a small-time drug dealer and spousal abuser and her mom had just shot herself, most likely the result of Vikki leaving the house and marrying a no-good thug.

Then things got worse - within three or four months of her mom's suicide, her husband was picked up by police and was now in jail. Their rocky marriage - which lasted a year, maybe a year-and-a-half - was, for all intents and purposes, over.

The less-than-street wise Hankins was now totally on her own, wandering the streets, unsure of who she was anymore or where she was going.


wasn't until her step dad said something to her that she was able to snap out of it.


was walking looking spaced out and he called me over and was talking about how the people

in my home town were talking about me in negative ways," recalls Hankins of the pivotal moment her tough-guy step dad cried. "That little tear just made me feel or sense somewhere in my dead soul that this is a person that cares and that it was genuine."

"Somehow that made me snap out of it a little bit, I guess."


To Make A Mess Of Things

The other thing her stepfather's tear made her think of was her younger brother and sister, and how their mom wasn't around for them anymore. She resolved to do something about it.

She was now determined to make a home for herself, so that she could take care of her younger siblings who were now without their mother. But how could she make any money? She was basically a street urchin. No one would hire her for any real job making real money.

She was determined now, but her options were limited.

Then she remembered those little zip-lock baggies

"Those little square things that my husband was selling and getting $20 for them," remembers Hankins. "I took my last paycheck and bought some of those little squares to make money quite fast, clueless about what I was doing."


Photo: Gian Pietri/Sunshine Slate Images Vikki Hankins is looking for justice from her government And

Photo: Gian Pietri/Sunshine Slate Images

Vikki Hankins is looking for justice from her government

And make money she did. Hankins proved to be an excellent drug dealer. First, she didn't get high on her own supply. Second, who would believe that a cute young girl was slinging rocks?

Well, she didn't stay the cute innocent young girl for long. Soon she was sporting gold teeth, tons of jewelry and a ever-hardening street attitude. The drug dealing and the lifestyle that goes along with it was making Hankins sick inside.

Her success quickly led her up the drug dealer food chain, where she got to meet "Mr. Big" - not his real name or nickname - who was one of Daytona's bigger players on the drug distribution scene.

He fronted Hankins a large amount of crack, even though she had no idea what "fronting" was. After her crash course in dealing, she headed back to her hometown and sold everything she had.

She definitely surprised Mr. Big and his whole crew by returning the next day with all of his money and a desire for more product. Big was impressed. He was also keen on the little girl from Crescent City and the two eventually developed an intimate relationship.


She lived the life of a drug dealer for 1.5 years before she wanted out. The people. The violence. The product. She was changing into someone who she didn't want to become: an actual thug.

Besides, Hankins had started the process of getting her cosmetology license. It was time to say goodbye to the drug life.

"I went to Daytona Beach Community College and got my hours and passed the courses and

took the exam

lifestyle," says Hankins. "I wanted to open up some hair salons."

got my license. I knew I was working my way out of [the drug-dealing]

But it was not to be - Vikki was busted before she could get out.

"That particular package of drugs is where I said 'this is it, this is my last little trip here,'" recalls Hankins. "I had already told [Mr. Big] that I didn't want to be with him anymore. I was gonna take my money, he could have his money and I am going to go on about my way. But I ended up getting arrested instead."

In May of 1990, Hankins checked into the Hilton Hotel in DeLand under the name Vanessa

Wade, "Because I didn't want [Mr. Big] to find anybody else to know I was around."

I switched cars. I didn't want him or

She succeeded in eluding everyone. She was gonna finish this score and move on. Except that her great escape turned into a horrible nightmare lasting 20 years.

"When I cut open one of the gray packages of cocaine base, I left the [empty] gray package in the room," recalls Hankins. "When the maid came in to clean up she saw it and turned it into management. They set up surveillance across the hall."

She was arrested by state officers. The charge? Possession of more than 50 grams of cocaine base with intent to distribute, and conspiracy. But the state - who has basically made an "accidental" arrest - quickly handed the case over to the feds, which, unbeknownst to Hankins, was already building their own case against her and Mr. Big.

Her goose was cooked, they told her, it was time to roll over on Mr. Big. She didn't, and then

made yet another huge mistake: she utilized the defense attorney supplied by

Mr. Big.

He kept telling her it was nothing to worry about, obviously more concerned about his paying client than some naive girl with gold teeth. Until the day she was sentenced, Hankins was being advised that she would most likely walk out of court that day with little more than a slap on the wrist.

Or at worst, she would do ten years.

What she wasn't aware of was the fact that due to the media frenzy surrounding a new super- addictive form of cocaine dubbed "crack," that new federal sentencing guidelines enacted in 1989 mandated that Hankins spend an obscenely long time in prison compared to other crimes.

Or even compared to powdered cocaine.


Photo: Supplied by Vikki Hankins Free at last, free at last: Hankins enjoys her life

Photo: Supplied by Vikki Hankins

Free at last, free at last: Hankins enjoys her life after many years of incarceration

In November of 1990, she was sentenced to 23 years and 4 months in federal prison. She could earn no more than 54 days a year time off for good behavior.

A Crack In The System

Hankins was now a victim of the system, of the war on crack cocaine. Mr. Big had set her up with a bad lawyer and the federal government had stuck her with an overreaching stint in prison that outweighed even some attempted murder raps.

Hankins dutifully served her time. She never narc-ed on Mr. Big or anyone else. She used her time wisely to get her life straight through education and (mostly) good behavior while on the inside federal prisons in Kentucky, Connecticut, California, Florida and Texas.


"Inside the federal prison system, they have jobs were inmates worked at maybe for pennies an hour, jobs that civilians would make maybe $20 or $25 and hour. I ended up with a job where I was only making $5 a month."

This was a problem for Hankins because in addition to having to serve the time, she was given

a $28,000 fine to pay off while she was in prison.

"And so I wrote to the judge

"I cannot afford to pay a $28,000 fine."

and I told him that 'I am making only $5 a month,'" says Hankins.

And out of that $5, Hankins had to buy toiletries and washing powder, which easily eclipsed the five spot. She wrote out a longhand letter to the judge - the same judge that had sentenced her - that she had no one on the outside to help her buy these things.

"And the next thing you know, maybe nine months later, I received a document from the court saying that the remainder of that $28,000 fine had been terminated, so I didn't have to pay it anymore."

In all, Hankins went nearly two decades learning very little of the outside world.

Near the end of her sentence, Hankins got some good news: in an attempt to course-correct the over-reaching federal sentencing guidelines for crack cocaine - which many claimed were driven by race, as evidenced of the lighter (or whiter) sentences handed down for powdered cocaine offenses - the feds shortened Hankins' prison time and the prison time of thousands just like her.

The removed eight years from her sentence. The "adjustment" meant that she was eligible for immediate release. Hankins was finally freed on March 28, 2008, after spending 18 years behind bars.

Her time in prison - and the drug dealing that put here there - is not something that she is proud of. But she paid her debt to society (and then some) and was eager to get back to living a life.

But a lot had changed since she'd been locked up. She had entered prison as a 21-year old and exited at age 39. Entire lifetimes had gone by while she was behind bars. But she was proud and determined.

That first day out had been planned for quite some time.

"I went straight to my probation officer (P.O.), then to the DMV to get a driver's license and then to Home Depot to get a job," recalls Hankins.

But there was a problem: the once-raging American economy was collapsing. There were no jobs to have, at Home Depot or otherwise. And even if there was a job, convicted felons on parole are the last to be hired.

But Hankins persevered, not wanting to end up back in jail or dead. Drugs and crime - that wasn't her scene anyway. For the first six months after he release, she lived at her sister's house. But she yearned to be on her own so bad.


Photo: Supplied by Vikki Hankins Hankins' storage space "apartment" "There came a point where I

Photo: Supplied by Vikki Hankins

Hankins' storage space "apartment"

"There came a point where I had to leave

she had worn out her welcome. "I really believed that I was going to get a job."

I am an adult," says Hankins of the moment she felt

But she didn't. The little bit of money that she had scraped together, Hankins spent on a hotel room. But that didn't last too long. Soon, she was an ex-felon with no place to go, sleeping on a bed roll in a storage facility, trying to get her life back on track. At least it was air-conditioned.

Her federal probation officer didn't like the new arrangement one bit and made the outlandish suggestion that Hankins sign paperwork that would put her back into the prison system. There, according to her P.O. "Mr. Dennis," she could at least have a place to sleep and have food to eat.

"To my shock, they wanted me to sign documents that would put me back in a halfway house," says Hankins, still boiling over the suggestion made by an entity of the federal government. "It was mind-blowing."

Adding insult to injury, President Bush had just signed the Second Chance Act, which was enacted to help rehabilitate ex-felons through job placement, training and housing. Didn't Mr. Dennis get the memo?


To Hankins, that was not an option. She would be put in a situation where everyday she faced the possibility of going back into prison.

"At any time these people could have said, 'OK, you broke a rule,'" says Hankins, which could

have led to five more years of incarceration for a single violation. "To me it was a set-up people, while I was in prison, who came back from the halfway house."

I saw

"They never made it to society

to freedom."

Angry, she fought hard to end her parole, even writing a letter to Sen. Nelson and telling him what had been suggested by the federal employee. Nelson's office launched an investigation, although Hankins hasn't ever been privy to the results. (See Sen. Nelson's response to Vikki's letter here.)

As time went on, Hankins had found an apartment in a different probation district (and, more importantly, was no longer under the thumb of Mr. Dennis). As Mr. Dennis waved goodbye he made a point of telling Hankins that in no way did his suggestion of going to a halfway house - nor the subsequent complaints, reporter inquiries and Senatorial investigation about that suggestion - have anything to do with the switch to a different probation officer.

Her new P.O., Marilyn Calvache, was much more kind-hearted and understanding. Plus Hankins was in college now, taking online courses from Everest University and living off the student loan money.

She was able to get the student loan easily because her credit was spotless, blank actually. It is one positive of being held in prison for 18 years. Now she's like many of us, saddled with a pile of debt.

"Hopefully by the time I'm done with the education that I prefer - which is in law and politics and all that - that I'll be able to pay it off," enthuses Hankins.

Yes, she's integrating back into society nicely.

Additionally, Hankins got help from Advocate 4 Justice, a non-profit organization based in Atlanta. Advocate 4 Justice is an organization whose mission is to "bring balance to the federal criminal justice system," according to its website. They periodically sent Hankins clothes, food and the ancient laptop she used to take her college courses.

AMAZING, Since She Had Never Seen The Internet Before

"Inside the prison, they don't have the internet," recalls Hankins with a chuckle. "I quickly learned how to navigate the internet. It was mind blowing to see how email actually had never seen such a wealth of information."


The other technology that really surprised her was the cell phone.


Artwork: A4J Publishing Cover art from some of Hankins' A4J Publishing titles, including her own

Artwork: A4J Publishing

Cover art from some of Hankins' A4J Publishing titles, including her own title Trauma

"When I went in [to prison] in 1990, all they had was these huge phones that they would put in

people's cars. And the beepers," recalls Hankins. "The cell phone

I was like 'wow.'"

Her new P.O. helped her find employment at Red Lobster, where she excelled. Good reviews from her managers followed.

She was in school, writing her books (as well as publishing others) and giving her now-regular public speaking engagements to youngsters about the dangers of criminality, drugs, bad choices and prison life. She would also talk to anybody who would listen about post-traumatic stress disorder, which she suffered from after her mom committing suicide

"That's how ended up in prison in the first place," admits Hankins.

All that success led her new, more understanding, probation officer to conclude that Hankins' should be taken off probation altogether. How ironic then that the same judge that sentenced a young Vikki Hankins to more than twenty-three years in prison signed off on her release from probation, three years early, in fact.

She was now 100% free, her debts to society fully paid - with interest.

Now Hankins has a degree, her own business and the desire to participate in the betterment of society, possibly by running for office. But she can't do any of those things until her civil rights are restored.


Photo: Advocate 4 Justice website Hankins as an Advocate 4 Justice Her Associates Science Degree

Photo: Advocate 4 Justice website

Hankins as an Advocate 4 Justice

Her Associates Science Degree in Paralegal Studies - cum laude, she is proud to point out - is practically useless as she cannot get clearance to handle court documents without her civil rights. She had no idea of the rules when she started the course.

"No, I didn't think that at all. Usually I do some research

the things a receptionist would do

not become a certified registered paralegal with the state of Florida."


admits Hankins. "I'm only able to do

in a legal arena. Legal research, stuff like that. But I could

Not until she gets her rights back, anyway. Her latest educational pursuit is a Political Science degree. Until then, she will have to continue giving back to the organization that helped her by helping others in need, as the acting vice president and spokesperson for Advocate 4 Justice.


can help people to a certain extent. But I think I would be able to help

people more so if I was in a position of public service," says Hankins, who currently holds down

a part-time job selling vacation packages. "I just have the heart for the people, I care. Those experiences [that I had] drove the passion all the way down to my toes."

"My books


She understands the challenges of getting elected with her background, but she remains undaunted, filled with a great tenacity and desire to see it through. Much like everything else she does these days.

Her publishing company - A4J Publishing - is a service to the community in itself, as well as a way to finally tell her side of things through titles such as Trauma and the just-released Trauma II. A4J is the acronym for Advocate 4 Justice, another nod to her allegiance. A4J has also published several titles by the group's founder, Lt. Garry Jones.

"I started the company because the traditional publishing companies that I contacted about my

book wouldn't give me the opportunity," said Hankins. "

stories, messages, or writings can get their books on the market and have fun with it in the


So that everyday people with powerful

Other A4J Publishing titles include A Tribute To Zora Neale Hurston, Straight Out Of Hell I, and Black Jesus.

Vikki Hankins is living proof that if given the chance, anyone can succeed no matter what is thrown at them. But those who are keeping her from getting her civil rights back are going to far. She has proven herself.

"It's a book at a time, it's a speech at a time," says Hankins. "I'm not standing still. Definitely not going backwards."

She just wants to live her life

and not be someone's political pawn anymore.


Vikki Hankins

One Woman’s Fight For Her Civil Rights … One Party’s Quest To Take Them Away

A Defiant Republican Administration Plays Politics With Ex-Felons’ Rights

As The Battle For 2012 Rages On

Written by Mark Christopher

Cover photo and inside photos by Gian Pietri/Sunshine Slate Images

photo and inside photos by Gian Pietri/Sunshine Slate Images Copyright 2011 Sunshine Slate Publications. All rights

Copyright 2011 Sunshine Slate Publications. All rights reserved.

This edition may be distributed feely without changes.

For information contact



©2011 Sunshine Slate Publications