Better Men Make Better Fathers

Children who grow up in fatherless homes are five times more likely to live in poverty and more likely to use drugs, be victims of child abuse, drop out of school and suffer behavioral and emotional problems, studies find.

The program is part emotional boot camp, part life training and part basic education; homework includes writing essays on the importance of child support and anger management. Unlike other prisoner re-entry programs, which emphasize job placement, Fathers Now takes a more holistic approach, also emotionally anchoring the men in their communities and reuniting them with their families to build for long-term success.

From prisoner to mentor

“I probably should have been dead a long time ago,” Muhammad says as we sit in his office, where pictures of his daughters and Michelle and Barack Obama are taped to the wall. He's 41, and flecks of silver dust his neatly cropped hair and beard. A deep scar, the result of a childhood accident, slashes an eyebrow, toughening his otherwise attractive face. “The best way to get back at the system is to give back,” he says.

Muhammad, born Craig Thompson, was 18 when he bought a pistol on the streets of Newark. A week later, during an argument with his brother Andre, the gun went off, killing him. It was an accident, he says. But he had a juvenile record and court-appointed counsel. He pleaded guilty and was sentenced to 30 years, later reduced to 10 years.

“I made a conscious decision in prison to change the direction of my life,” he says.

An 11th-grade dropout, Muhammad earned his associate degree in prison. Released at 28, he picked up various jobs, from selling shoes to sweeping floors. Determined to help change his community, he and a half-dozen other former felons formed the “Street Warriors” to mentor inner-city young people. In 2008, he was hired as lead teacher at Fathers Now. “I had served 10 years in three state prisons, and now I'm going to press conferences with the governor and Mayor Booker.”

A second chance for all

In class, Muhammad speaks with a preacher's cadence and soaring rhetoric. His message resonates with the men because he knows his audience. He's one of them.

Stephen Ziemlinski, 23, who is the only Caucasian in class, has brought his 9-month-old daughter, Vivien, and arrives with diaper bag and stroller in tow.

“I'm here because I'm tired of getting arrested and locked up since I was 14 years old,” he tells the others in the class. “I don't want my daughter to grow up anything like me. I want to be better for her. She's who inspires me, and she's why I'm here.”

Muhammad has two daughters: Andrea, 22, who was born while he was in prison, and Chavi, almost 2, for whom he recently won joint custody.

“I feel like I have a second chance at fatherhood with Chavi,” Muhammad says.

Reinforcing lessons learned

Key elements to preventing recidivism include targeting these men when they are most at risk — within the first months of leaving prison — and staying connected after the program ends.

The program is on target, says Debbie Mukamal, director of the Prisoner Re-entry Institute at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, “but eight weeks may not be long enough. For some it may be the catalyst that connects them to other supports. But the post-program alumni engagement piece is probably as important as the program itself. You want to make sure that everything you teach in those eight weeks gets reinforced.”

Reflecting on what Father's Day means to him, Muhammad gets emotional.

“I've worked hard to become close to my older daughter,” he says. “My baby Chavi now lives with me half of the week. I am really raising her, and it feels good.”