Prison law library access in Pennsylvania is a mirage

Forty-six years ago, in Bounds v. Smith, the U.S. Supreme Court held that prisoners have a constitutional right to access courts and that prison authorities must assist inmates in preparing and filing legal papers. As a result, prisons established law libraries, clerked by prisoners making less than 50 cents an hour.

When I entered State Correctional Institution — Graterford at age 19 in 1997 to start my life-without-parole sentence, it was like stepping into a time warp. The computer age had not yet arrived. The prison law library was stocked with books and typewriters.

Things have improved dramatically, but the commonwealth still has a long way to go when it comes to providing prisoners with the time and resources they need to pursue a successful appeal of their convictions.

Pennsylvania has two rounds of appeals for criminal cases: one filed by counsel, limited to counsel’s objections, and another filed by prisoners raising counsel’s errors, under the Post-Conviction Relief Act, with a deadline one year after the first round of appeals ends. After prisoners use their appeal or miss the deadline, the Post-Conviction Relief Act ends their appellate rights forever.

The Post-Conviction Relief Act statute does not require courts or attorneys to notify prisoners of the deadline. In my experience, Pennsylvania’s compliance with Bounds is a mirage.

My direct appeal ended on March 5, 1999. I had one year from then to become my own lawyer and file my appeal, or lose my rights forever. Computerized law research was not available until 2002.

I was a law library clerk at the prisons in Albion, Erie, and, most recently, Somerset, where I’ve been incarcerated for the last 20 years. The first appeal I won corrected another prisoner’s sentence at Albion. In Somerset, I ran a law clinic from 2005 to 2008 with the late Victor Hassine, whose writing about prison life was honored with a PEN America literary award.

Together, Hassine and I helped new prisoners use their appellate rights. For nearly 60 hours a week, we had access to a single desktop computer that we used to research and appeal dozens of cases at a time — winning back years, and sometimes decades, in other prisoners’ excessive sentences.

Years later, my biggest win cut 46 years off of Steward Steckley’s sentence and led to his immediate release from prison. Using the Department of Corrections’ own figures, that saved taxpayers an estimated $3.5 million.

In many states, including Pennsylvania, the annual incarceration costs for one prisoner rival the cost of a year of Ivy League tuition. The National Registry of Exonerations has identified 123 wrongful convictions in Pennsylvania (including five federal cases). According to a 2021 report by Philadelphia Lawyers for Social Equity, more than 8,000 prisoners are serving life or virtual life sentences in Pennsylvania. That’s among the highest in the nation. The high cost of incarceration, plus long sentences, means that uncorrected errors can waste millions of taxpayer dollars per case.

Beyond the financial toll, the harm of wrongful convictions is immeasurable. I met Vietnam veteran Richard Hollihan Jr. at Somerset in 2004. In his 1986 homicide trial, the prosecutor fired a shotgun in front of the jury. I gave him a Supreme Court opinion holding that such actions were grounds for a mistrial. He filed an appeal based on that case but was denied by the Post-Conviction Relief Act’s time bar.

I know of four other lifers who are wrongfully imprisoned by the time bar: Heriberto Pagan, David Rodriguez, Jose Gonzalez, and Michael Purvis. David Willoughby isn’t a lifer, but is time-barred, too.

Although I helped other prisoners, I couldn’t learn how to help myself before the act ended my appellate rights.

I killed my dad, and I am on my 11th appeal. Both of my parents physically and sexually abused me. I had eight hospitalizations for broken bones by age 12. My dad was kicked out of the Boy Scouts for assaulting a Cub Scout, kicked out of teaching Catholic Catechism classes for assaulting a student, and tried to rape my 10-year-old friend when I was in fourth grade. The sexual harassment continued into 12th grade, causing one of my teachers, Martin Muller, to report it to school administrators.

Two years later, on Feb. 22, 1997, my dad threatened me, saying he was sending his police friends after me. That’s when I killed him. In 2019, the Superior Court of Pennsylvania found my right to counsel was violated, but the Post-Conviction Relief Act prevented a remedy.

The rules in place at law libraries at state correctional facilities make it nearly impossible for prisoners to understand their rights and take steps to challenge legal issues with their cases before the Post-Conviction Relief Act ends their rights forever. There are three primary reasons for this: time, seating capacity, and restricted computer functions.

People who never lived or worked in prison may falsely assume prisoners use law libraries at their leisure. In reality, access is limited by staffing and scheduling around meals. Each prisoner is permitted two weekly sessions, lasting between 45 minutes and two hours. Prisoners facing court deadlines within 30 days are permitted up to four weekly sessions.

The ratio of law library computers to prisoners is inadequate. Pennsylvania prisons average 1,500 prisoners, across 24 facilities. But no prison has more than 24 law library research computers. According to the librarian at Somerset, it is the only state prison with that many.

Here, access is first come, first served. This causes a foot race to the library at the start of each session. I try to be early, at the front of the line, because if I’m late, I may not get a computer. Fire marshals limit the safe occupancy of any room in a prison, and law libraries have seating capacities marginally higher than the number of computers.

Dubious security restrictions on law library computer functions make them less useful than typewriters. They don’t have internet access, only on-site CD-ROM databases containing local and federal law, court rules, and case law. Prisoners can’t save their documents in computer files or external memory but must print them out for 10 cents a page. Prison jobs pay 23 cents to 50 cents an hour.

To meaningfully access courts, prison law libraries should partner with local law schools to help close the skill gap between prisoners and prosecutors. This would show law students real prison conditions and the consequences of criminal justice policies.

The state legislature must also end the Post-Conviction Relief Act’s limit on prisoners’ right of appeal. Limiting appellate rights wastes lives and hundreds of millions of dollars by wrongfully imprisoning people.

John Liebel is a 1995 Pennsbury High School graduate and a contributor to the Prison Journalism Project. He is currently writing a book, “Homicide Law: From Ancient Prejudice To Current Practice.”