My Personal Story in Search of #PhoneJustice

It is 9:10 am on Monday, February 6, 2017, and I am sitting in the courtroom without my cellphones. Like many who find themselves disconnected from their mobile device(s) for any length of time, I feel extremely uncomfortable and detached from the rest of the world. But whatever my discomfort, it pales in comparison to the day-to-day economic and personal torture felt by millions who remain on the wrong side of the economic justice divide and struggle to stay in touch with incarcerated loved ones.

Innocent or guilty, too often poor and disenfranchised, millions of mostly black and brown families suffer mightily. They suffer because we who are sworn to serve them have turned our backs on the nation's most vulnerable communities. We are quick to judge and do not think twice as we ignore the plight of the families, friends and representatives of those imprisoned, but awaiting their day in court, and the millions of others who have been sentenced and are serving time: rightly, wrongly or unfairly. But the most callous indictment of us all, is how little we appear to care about the 2.7 million children, the ailing grandmothers and the other often-destitute family members who pay a heavy price just for picking up the phone and keeping in touch.