Rubén V. Castañeda

Rubén V. Castañeda serves as Deputy Juvenile Public Defender with the Travis County Juvenile Public Defender’s Office. He has been defending children in that capacity since 1998. He was board certified in Juvenile Law in 2001 and has been a member of TCDLA since 1995. He can be reached at or 512-854-4128.

The Critical Role of Race in Juvenile Justice

Excerpt from the Texas Education Code Section 28.0022, effective December 02, 2021:

“(4) a teacher, administrator, or other employee of a state agency, school district, or open-enrollment charter school may not:

(A) require or make part of a course inculcation in the concept that:

(vii) the advent of slavery in the territory that is now the United States constituted the true founding of the United States; or

(viii) with respect to their relationship to American values, slavery and racism are anything other than deviations from, betrayals of, or failures to live up to the authentic founding principles of the United States, which include liberty and equality.” See Tex. Educ. Code § 28.0022(a)(4).

“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”  — James Baldwin

Race has played and continues to play a significant role in the Texas juvenile justice system. Children of color, particularly African American children, comprise a disproportionately higher percentage of children referred to the juvenile justice system.  They also comprise a disproportionately higher percentage of children who receive the most severe consequences. It is critical to understand this fact. If we are to improve the system, we must honestly examine where we are and where we came from. Only then can positive systemic change begin to happen.

Harris County, a Case Study

Harris County has a population of approximately 4.7 million. According to the U.S. Census Bureau in its July 01, 2021, population estimates, 43.7% are Hispanic/Latino, 28.7% are White alone (not Hispanic or Latino), and 20.0% are African American alone.  One might think that juvenile court referrals in Harris County would track similarly to these demographics.  However, the most recent Harris County Juvenile Probation Annual Report from 2020 (Report) shows a distinct contrast between the demographics of the county as a whole and the demographics of the children referred to Harris County Juvenile Court.

According to the Report, there were a total of 3,830 referrals made to juvenile court in 2020. That was down significantly from 2019, when a total of 6,579 referrals were made. It is likely that the pandemic and the closing of many schools for part of the year contributed to the drop in referrals.

Of those 3,830 referrals in 2020, 1,698 were for Hispanic/Latino children, 1,662 were for African American children, and 404 were for White children, with the remaining 66 referrals classified as other. By percentage, that breaks down to 44.3% Hispanic/Latino, 43.3% African American, and 10.5% White.

The disparity is even greater for children who were detained that year in Harris County. The Report shows children of color were more likely to lose their liberty.  Of all the children who were detained, 47.4% were African American, 44.2% were Hispanic or Latino, and 7.21% were White.

African American girls had it worst of all. Of the girls detained, more than half, or 52.3%, were African American, while 34.9% were Hispanic/Latino and 10.5% were White.

This brief case study is illustrative as to how significant and troubling the racial inequities are for children of color entering the juvenile justice system. Other counties, such as Dallas County, have similar statistics.

And while it is important understand the racial disparities in the juvenile justice system as they currently exist, it is more important to answer the question, why do they exist? The solution to this problem may be complex, but the answer as to why we have this problem, even into the 21st century, is not.

Racial disparities and unequal treatment of people of color, particularly African Americans, have existed since the inception of Texas.

Contrary to what the newly enacted Section 28.0022 of the Education Code claims, slavery and racism are not a deviation, betrayal, or failure of our founding values. Slavery and racism are an integral part of our founding values. The ramifications of these values have permeated our systems throughout this state’s history and continue to do so today.

Republic of Texas Constitution

The Constitution of the Republic of Texas was drafted on March 1, 1836, adopted 15 days later, and ratified by the people of Texas in September of that year. The drafters of the constitution borrowed many concepts from the U.S. Constitution, such as a preamble and separation powers among three branches of government. There were also provisions that deviated from the U.S. Constitution.

What is clear, though, is that Texas aggressively sought to be a slave holding republic. This is made plain in section 9 of the constitution, under the “General Provisions,” which states:

“All persons of color who were slaves for life previous to their emigration to Texas, and who are now held in bondage, shall remain in the like state of servitude, provide the said slave shall be the bona fide property of the person so holding said slave as aforesaid. Congress shall pass no laws to prohibit emigrants from the United States of America from bringing their slaves into the Republic with them, and holding them by the same tenure by which such slaves were held in the United States; nor shall Congress have power to emancipate slaves; nor shall any slave-holder be allowed to emancipate his or her slave or slaves, without the consent of Congress, unless he or she shall send his or her slave or slaves without the limits of the Republic. No free person of African descent, either in whole or in part, shall be permitted to reside permanently in the Republic, without the consent of Congress, and the importation or admission of Africans or negroes into this Republic, excepting from the United States of America, is forever prohibited, and declared to be piracy.”

For its brief existence, the Republic of Texas was a slave holding, whites-only nation. If the above still leaves doubt that racism and white supremacy were a part of this state’s founding values, Texas’ declaration of secession 25 years later should erase those doubts.

“A Declaration of the causes which impel the State of Texas to secede from the Federal Union”

On February 2, 1861, the state of Texas seceded from the United States of America. The document proclaiming the secession, with the above cumbersome title, listed Texas’ various grievances against the Union. In reality, there was only one reason that Texas left the Union. The reason was slavery. Texas seceded because it wanted to maintain that peculiar institution. Texas, along with the other seceding states, was concerned that slavery would eventually be abolished in the expanding United States of America of the mid-19th century.

The excerpt below from Texas’ declaration of secession makes clear the state’s intent behind secession:

“We hold as undeniable truths that the governments of the various States, and of the confederacy itself, were established exclusively by the white race, for themselves and their posterity; that the African race had no agency in their establishment; that they were rightfully held and regarded as an inferior and dependent race, and in that condition only could their existence in this country be rendered beneficial or tolerable.

That in this free government all white men are and of right ought to be entitled to equal civil and political rights; that the servitude of the African race, as existing in these States, is mutually beneficial to both bond and free, and is abundantly authorized and justified by the experience of mankind, and the revealed will of the Almighty Creator, as recognized by all Christian nations; while the destruction of the existing relations between the two races, as advocated by our sectional enemies, would bring inevitable calamities upon both and desolation upon the fifteen slave-holding States.”

Racial Disparities Continue Into the 20th Century and Beyond

Texas’ foundational racism has touched every part of society, including the juvenile justice system. History is replete with examples of disparate and discriminatory treatment toward children of color, especially towards African Americans.

For instance, in the 1920s, some of the children who had been committed to the State Juvenile Training School in Gatesville were “leased out” to work on local farms. Most of those “leased out” were African American. The practice of leasing inmates was essentially slavery by another name. Another example is the 1913 Juvenile Act, which states that “the white boys shall be kept, worked and educated entirely separate from the boys of the other races, and shall be kept apart in all respects.”

African American girls didn’t fare much better. In the first part of the 20th century, because of discrimination, African American girls were not allowed into training schools. Thus, African American girls who were arrested would likely either be placed in adult jail or released into the community.

In 1927, the Texas Legislature finally authorized the construction of a training school specifically for African American girls. This authorization was meaningless, however, at least for the next 20 years. It took that long for the legislature to provide funding for the construction. After the school was built, and then through most of its existence, the administrators had to manage with less funding and fewer physical resources than the other schools.

More recently, in this century, we can see inequalities in the commitment of children to the state’s carceral system for juveniles, the Texas Juvenile Justice Department (TJJD). TJJD’s most recent profile of new commitments is for FY 2013-2017. These statistics show that for that time-period, 43.7% of new commitments were Hispanic or Latino, 37% were African American, and only 18.8% were White. Compare that with the Texas demographic data from the 2020 census, which shows the population to be 41% White alone (not Hispanic or Latino), 39.7% Hispanic or Latino, and 12.9% African American.

Truth

To deny that slavery and racism have been integral parts of Texas’ legacy is to deny the truth. History and statistics bear this out. As James Baldwin intimated, we must face this uncomfortable truth if we are to make positive changes. Turning a blind eye and forcing teachers to teach a whitewashed version of our state’s history does a disservice not just to our children of color, but to all children. And it will likely doom us to repeat those same injustices over and over again. We can, and must, do better.

The opinions expressed in our published works are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of TCDLA and/or its editors.

Is it Time to Defund TJJD’s State Schools?

“There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.”

Nelson Mandela

Adults can’t be trusted to take care of children placed in their custody in an institutional setting.  At least it seems that way in Texas.  It’s not just the recent problems the Texas Juvenile Justice Department’s (TJJD) state school system, it’s the long and sordid history in this State vis-à-vis delinquent children committed to those state schools.

From its inception in 1949, Texas’ state school system for juvenile delinquents (Texas Youth Development Council, Texas Youth Council, Texas Youth Commission, and now, Texas Juvenile Justice Department) has been fraught with scandal and secrecy regarding the abuse of children it its charge.

In the early 1950s for example, allegations of abuse surfaced at the Gainesville school for girls.  During a habeas corpus hearing, one girl testified about how one man beat her with a leather strap while two other men held her.  The 1960s, under the leadership of TYC director James Turman, saw an FBI investigation of the Gatesville school for physical abuse and denial of routine medical care, another investigation of a guard beating a resident into a coma, and a legislative surprise inspection of a state school where the legislators observed residents with bruises, black eyes and swollen faces.

The 1960s also ushered in a golden era of juvenile rights, with the U.S. Supreme Court deciding cases like Kent v. United States, 383 U.S. 541 (1966) and In re Winship, 697 U.S. 358 (1970).  The seminal U.S. Supreme Court case regarding juvenile rights, In re Gault, 387 U.S. 1 (1967), was published in 1967.h, Gault made it clear that children in the juvenile justice system have basic due process rights under the U.S. Constitution.  Among those rights, which we seem to take for granted today, are the right to counsel and the right to have a hearing.   Despite Gault, juvenile courts in Texas were slow to recognize these rights. 

Morales v. Turman

In 1970, 15-year-old Alicia Morales was working and earning $70 per week.  And like clockwork, her father took all but $5 of it each week.  When Alicia got tired of this and refused to cooperate with her father, he decided to punish her by involving the state.  Alicia’s father, El Paso County’s Chief Juvenile Probation Officer, and the County Judge signed an “agreed judgment” committing Alicia to TYC (Texas Youth Council).  The commitment was done without a hearing and without counsel, contrary to Gault’s mandates.  The reason for Alicia’s commitment: she was deemed to be an incorrigible child.

Because that kind of procedure-less commitment was still common in Texas, a class-action a federal class-action lawsuit was filed, with Alicia being one of the named plaintiffs.  The lawsuit was expanded to include abuse occurring at several of the state schools.  What the investigation uncovered was horrific. 

After a six-week trial, Judge William Wayne Justice entered an emergency interim order granting preliminary injunctive relief.  The injunctive relief included such matters as physical force and solitary confinement.  The order contained 32 findings of fact, including:

  1. Correctional officers at Mountain View presently administer, or have in the past administered, various forms of physical abuse, including slapping, punching, and kicking. One form of this physical abuse, referred to as “racking,” consists of requiring the inmate to stand against the wall with his hands in his pockets while he is struck a number of times by blows from the fists of correctional officers. Other abuse consists of correctional officers administering blows to the face with both open and closed hands.
  2. Tear gas and similar chemical substances have been used by agents or employees of the defendants on Mountain View inmates in situations in which no riot or other disturbance was imminent. One inmate, for example, was tear-gassed while locked in his cell for failure to work; another was gassed for fleeing from a beating he was receiving; and another was gassed by a correctional officer supervisor while he was being held by two 200-pound correctional officers. 17. Most or all of these security facilities contain single rooms or cells in which juveniles are, or have been in the past, locked for periods of time as long as a month or more, with no opportunity to leave the cell except for daily bathing, hygiene, and eating. Many juveniles so confined have little or no contact with casework, medical, or psychological staff during the period of their confinement. 20. Inmates in some security facilities have been forced to perform repetitive, make-work tasks, such as pulling up grass without bending their knees or buffing a floor for hours with a rag. During the pendency of this lawsuit, inmates were permitted to adopt a kneeling posture, rather than a bending posture with unbent knees, for the performance of the grass-pulling.

 Morales v. Turman, 364 F. Supp. 166, 170-172 (E.D.Tex. 1973).-172

Fortunately, major reforms came out of this litigation.  The centerpiece of the reforms came in 1973 with the creation of Title 3 of the Family Code, the Juvenile Justice Code.  Professor Robert O. Dawson was the primary draftsman, and many of the concepts and provisions from then are still found in the code today. 

TYC Scandal 2007

During a Texas Senate Finance Committee hearing on February 1st, 2007, Senator Juan Hinojosa asked TYC’s executive director, Dwight Harris, about sex-abuse allegations at the west Texas state school in Pyote.  There were rumors about sex abuse at Pyote, but this was the first time it was spoken of out loud in a public forum.  This was the beginning of another scandal at TYC.

From December 2003, and continuing through February 2005, Pyote’s assistant superintendent used his position over the juveniles to extract sexual favors from them.  He had the authority to shorten or lengthen a juvenile’s indeterminate sentence at the school.  The superintendent would bring juveniles into his office late at night, at times continuing into the early morning, where he would engage in sex acts with them.  Because of the power imbalance, the juveniles had little choice but to acquiesce, lest their stay at Pyote be extended.

These allegations were bad.  The cover-up of and dismissiveness toward these allegations may have been worse.  Although knowledge of the unusual nighttime visits and general unease about the assistant superintendent’s activities made it up the chain of command, the concerns remained inside the Pyote State School’s administration.  It took two juveniles confiding in a volunteer tutor, who in turn reported it to a Texas Ranger, to get law enforcement involved.

Despite the report to the Texas Ranger, nothing happened for the next two years.  Although there was sufficient evidence to press forward with charges, neither the local county prosecutor nor the U.S. Attorney had any interest in prosecuting.  It wasn’t until the story broke two years later, following Senator Hinojosa’s questions in the Senate Finance Committee, that the allegations were treated seriously.

While the Pyote scandal was unfolding, the U.S. Department of Justice was investigating Evins Regional Juvenile Justice Center in Edinburg for violence occurring at that school.  On March 15, 2007, the DOJ wrote a letter to then-governor Rick Perry to report its findings.  In addition to making findings about juvenile on juvenile violence, the DOJ found “an unacceptably high degree of physical abuse of youths by staff at Evins. We also found a disturbing consistency in the youths’ accounts of the use of unnecessary physical restraint and excessive force by many Evins’ staff.”

Other problems at other facilities soon came to light, such as the superintendent at Ayers halfway house in San Antonio shredding files and Coke County Juvenile Justice Center hiring a registered sex offender as a guard.

In response to these problems at TYC, the Texas legislature passed, and the governor signed SB 103 during that very legislative session.  Additional reforms in subsequent legislative sessions were also enacted.  Those reforms were designed to reduce the number of juveniles committed to TYC and provide for improved safety procedures.

Post TYC Scandal 2007

More than a decade after the Pyote and Evins scandals broke and legislative changes putatively fixed the problems, problems still exist within the state school system.  Headlines like “Gov. Greg Abbott ask Texas Rangers to investigate sexual abuse at youth lockups,” “Juvenile Justice Department employee arrested for having sex with inmate at Brownwood” and “Texas juvenile prison officer charged with sexually assaulting teenage inmate in his cell” are still all too commonplace.

The DOJ’s Bureau of Justice Statistics, within the last year, released a report on sexual victimization reported by youth in juvenile facilities.  While nationally, an estimated 7.1% of juveniles reported being sexually victimized, three of Texas’ five state schools, McLennan County State Juvenile Correctional Facility, Gainesville State School, and Ron Jackson State Juvenile Correctional Facility, were ranked among the worst in the country.

After seven decades of existence, is the TJJD state school system working?  Or does a radical change need to happen?  Should Texas take a bold step like California governor Gavin Newsome did this summer when he announced he was defunding California’s juvenile prison system?  The funds that would normally have paid for California’s juvenile prisons will instead be redirected back to the local counties.

Physical and sexual abuse of juveniles seem to be woven into the fabric of TJJD state school system.  The past seven decades have shown that. 

Randal Chance, a retired inspector general for TYC, said during the 2007 scandal “TYC has established a dynasty of corruption that condones the mistreatment of youth in its care.”  State Senator John Whitmire, quoted in a December 13, 2019, article from the Texas Observer: “I think the campuses are out of control, the system’s dysfunctional and very dangerous.  I’m frustrated; I don’t know what it’s going to take. My worst fear is that it’s going to take a loss of life or lives to change it.”

Which begs the question: is it time to defund TJJD’s state schools?