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Death by Incarceration: Rethinking How America Treats Its Youngest Offenders

Brett Abrams was only 14 years old when he was convicted of second-degree murder in 1984. Since 1993, he has been eligible for parole, yet he has been denied every single time, despite being a strong candidate on paper. Over his 40 years of incarceration in a North Carolina maximum-security prison, he has accrued only 11 infractions—the last in 2005, and has spent five days a week working a full-time job at a meat packaging plant. Abrams has spent the majority of his life incarcerated, a reality often described as “death by incarceration.” 

Cases like Abrams’ raise a fundamental question: how should society treat children who commit serious crimes? In the United States, it remains common at both the state and federal levels to sentence minors to life in prison. However, neurological research shows that the brain does not fully develop until around age 25, making adolescents more susceptible to impulsive decision-making. Because of this developmental reality, children are more responsive to rehabilitative approaches and should be treated separately from adults in the justice system.

In 1899, the first official U.S. juvenile court was created in Chicago, giving courts jurisdiction over minors who committed crimes when youth were considered delinquent, neglected, and dependent. This approach was rooted in rehabilitation over retribution, recognizing that children’s lived experiences and backgrounds play a pivotal role in shaping behavior. The court dedicated itself to preventing children from going into a life of crime through deeming the court legal authority over the child by court order under parens patriae, which means “parent of a nation” and reflects the state’s role as a protective authority over its citizens who are legally unable to care for themselves.  Delinquents were then sentenced to additional time in juvenile detention centers, where they interacted in positive, structured familial settings. The structured familial settings served as a framework for what most children need at home to succeed in society: consistent daily routines, responsibilities, and adult figures who provide stability. However, during the late 20th century, as rates of child crime and violence rose, policymakers shifted toward “tough on crime” policies. Automatic transfer provisions, for instance, permit juveniles accused of certain criminal offenses to be tried as adults, often with severe, long-term consequences.

Two such cases, one in Alabama involving Evan Miller and another in Arkansas involving Kuntrell Jackson, demonstrate the impact of these policies. Both were 14 when they were convicted of capital murder and sentenced to life imprisonment without eligibility for parole. Their cases ultimately reached the U.S. Supreme Court in Miller v. Alabama (2012), where the court ruled in a 5-4 decision that mandatory life-without-parole sentences for juveniles violate the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition on cruel and unusual punishment. While this decision limited the use of such sentences, it did not eliminate them entirely. Yet individuals like Abrams continue to face what many describe as death by incarceration for crimes committed before reaching adulthood. These outcomes reflect a system that misses the original intent of the juvenile justice system, which functioned to handle children who made mistakes during their developmental years through child protectionism and delinquency rehabilitation. According to the Campaign for Youth Justice, juveniles tried in adult courts have higher recidivism rates than those processed in juvenile systems. This suggests that punitive policies fail to deter crime and instead increase the likelihood of reoffending.

State-level data further reveals how punitive approaches vary across the country. For example, Texas leads the nation in youth incarceration, with 2,955 juveniles held in facilities in 2023. According to the Prison Policy Initiative, Texas incarcerates 751 per 100,000 people, more than any independent democratic country. Such figures point to a system that relies heavily on incarceration rather than rehabilitation, particularly for young offenders.

These statistics disproportionately affect Black and brown youth, who are often subjected to structural inequities within the justice system. Black youth made up nearly 40% of all incarcerated juveniles (11,415 in total during 2023), compared to 25% for white youth and 15% for Hispanic youth. In Texas, over 1,100 Black juveniles were held in custody that year—well over a third of all incarcerated youth—despite Black residents comprising just 11.8% of the state’s population. Similarly, a 2016 study of Washington State’s Juvenile Rehabilitation Administration (JRA) revealed that Black, multiracial, and Hispanic youth were seven, three, and one and a half times more likely to be in JRA custody than white youth. These disparities reflect structural inequities that punitive policies tend to reinforce rather than address.

The consequences of over-incarceration are also measurable in recidivism rates. According to data collected by the Harvard Political Review, states that have higher youth incarceration numbers also have significant recidivism rates. In Texas, 64% of youth in county probation departments were rearrested within three years of release; in state correctional facilities, the recidivism rate was even higher (77%). These statistics point to a lack of effort to implement less aggressive policy practices that offer community resources, such as counseling and supervised release, which amplifies the ineffectiveness of the punitive procedures in response to youth facing criminal offenses.  Further, this raises the question of why these states have not adopted more evidence-based rehabilitation practices.

Despite these challenges, some communities are exploring alternative approaches that prioritize rehabilitation. In Zebulon, North Carolina, the local police department is developing a new approach to policing juveniles. With a $5,000 grant from the state’s New Blue program, which seeks to foster innovation among younger law enforcement officers, officials launched the Community Advocacy and Resource Enhancement, or CARE, program. The initiative focuses on trauma-informed responses to youth and their families. The program partners with graduate students enrolled in Master of Social Work programs in North Carolina. In this case, two second-year students, one from North Carolina Central University and another from North Carolina State University, work directly with police at the station. They engage with children and their families who have been witnesses, suspects, or victims of crime. Law enforcement identifies individuals as candidates for CARE, and interns follow up with families to arrange meetings. The social workers then connect families with social services and other resources and continue to follow up as needed. Police Captain Edwin Killete, who oversees the program, said: “We are specifically focusing on juveniles because if we can stop, or at least buffer, that trauma when it happens, then the likelihood of them becoming an adult offender could be significantly reduced.” This approach displays a shift from punishment to prevention, addressing the root causes of delinquency rather than responding solely to its consequences.

The police department is also working with researchers to actively evaluate the success of the program. In the meantime, the CARE unit tracks the rate of 911 call trends, including specific homes with repeat incidents and quarterly crime statistics, to assess its impact and guide future interventions. 

Programs such as the CARE reflect a more compassionate approach to addressing juvenile crime that aligns with a Christian understanding of how young people should be guided rather than condemned. Proverbs 22:6 calls us to, “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it,” emphasizing the responsibility to nurture and formation that runs counter to purely punitive approaches. This points to a broader vision of public justice in which government, civil society, families, and faith communities work together to uphold the common good and foster a flourishing environment for everyone, especially the most vulnerable. 

Civil society plays a critical role in this. Communities can advocate for rehabilitative policies, build relationships with at-risk youth, and create opportunities for young people to develop skills such as teamwork, leadership, and discipline in positive community settings.

Churches and faith-based organizations are also uniquely equipped to contribute. Through mentorship, spiritual guidance, and moral formation, they can provide stability and guidance to youth who may lack consistent support. Connecting youth with mentors in their church communities who understand their experiences and can offer guidance, support, and a sense of moral direction is a tangible way the church can act on its call to care for the vulnerable.

Brett Abrams was never given the opportunity for a rehabilitative approach supported by those in his community—teachers, law enforcement officers, and faith leaders who might have guided him toward a different path. His story reflects not only an individual tragedy but a broader failure to recognize the potential for growth and transformation in young people. Yet it also points to what remains possible. Civil society does not have to remain on the sidelines. Communities, churches, and local institutions can play a vital role in shaping how young people are supported and mentored. Through compassionate engagement and restorative practices, society can move toward a model of justice that holds youth accountable while also recognizing their capacity for change.


Indira Neufville is a recent college graduate who has worked in the Christian advocacy nonprofit space in Washington, D.C. She is passionate about faith-informed public engagement and community organizing, with a focus on cultivating spaces where people can flourish. Grounded in her faith, she seeks to steward God’s goodness through her work and participation in civic life.

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