For years, Derrick Oliver has traveled across the state of Alabama helping register formerly incarcerated people to vote. Most often, he says he spends his time correcting the misinformation that any Alabamian with a felony conviction has permanently lost the right to vote.
But this year he encountered an overwhelming barrier: fear.
In August, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis for voter fraud because they had cast ballots in the 2020 election, despite having a disqualifying felony conviction. News and dismay as they were arrested aired on TV news stations and major media outlets across the country.
鈥淚mmediately, our phones were blowing up,鈥� Oliver said. 鈥淧eople want to know, 鈥楬ey, did you hear about this? What's going on with it? Does this affect us in Alabama?鈥欌��
During a press conference just days before Florida鈥檚 primary election, DeSantis billed the arrests of an office that was set up on July 1 to investigate election crimes. Voting rights experts have widely panned the move as the latest GOP-led effort to cast doubt on election integrity and discredit the 2020 election results.
In conversations with several formerly incarcerated people and nine volunteers working to register the people with felony convictions in several states, The Marshall Project found that Florida鈥檚 raids reverberated well beyond the state鈥檚 borders.
When people try to exercise the franchise and are getting arrested, absolutely that's a chilling effect.Doug Ammar, executive director of the Georgia Justice Project
Roughly 20 states passed legislation to people on probation and parole or those with a felony conviction who have served their time since 2016.
But figuring out if their rights have been restored is a daunting task for the previously incarcerated who, in many states, have to navigate Byzantine rules and regulations governing their eligibility. Often, the very agencies tasked with . Sometimes, the agencies .
Getting it wrong and voting when they are not technically allowed to do so brings a threat of a new felony conviction and a return to prison. Now, the 19 arrests in Florida are proof for some that casting a ballot isn鈥檛 worth the risk. (Prosecutors have already .)
That鈥檚 how Iris Gray feels. She was convicted of fraudulent use of a debit or credit card, a Class C felony in Alabama. When Gray first heard about the news of the arrests in Florida, she couldn鈥檛 bring herself to watch the videos. Though she is legally eligible to vote in Alabama, and officially registered, she does not plan to vote in the midterms.
鈥淣o, ma鈥檃m,鈥� she told The Marshall Project in a phone interview. 鈥淚鈥檓 not gonna vote.鈥�
Prosecutions of the formerly incarcerated for voting are not new. In April 2022, against Pamela Moses, who had been sentenced to six years and a day in prison after attempting to register to vote in 2019. Moses registered after being incorrectly informed by her probation officer that her probation had ended.
Such prosecutions made national news, and volunteers working to register the formerly incarcerated say people often cite them as reasons they do not want to vote. But the high-profile nature of the Florida arrests, and their connection to the GOP narrative of election fraud, has intensified alarm.
Volunteers registering people to vote with the Georgia Justice Project, a nonprofit dedicated to easing barriers to reentry after prison, say they鈥檝e seen an uptick in people calling into their offices seeking reassurance that they are legally eligible to vote because of what happened in Florida.
鈥淲hen people try to exercise the franchise and are getting arrested, absolutely that's a chilling effect,鈥� said Doug Ammar, the executive director. 鈥淭here鈥檚 a lot of legitimate concern for folks who are vulnerable and have had encounters with the law who will perceive a threat.鈥�
Confusion and fear among the formerly incarcerated because of frequent changes and variations in voting laws across states is a longstanding obstacle. As a result, these people often remain de facto disenfranchised even when they are legally eligible to vote, according to Richard Fording, a political science professor at the University of Alabama.
鈥淧eople in that situation are often reluctant to come forward,鈥� he said. 鈥淭hey don't know how to investigate this on their own, there鈥檚 a lot of stigma, to ask for help you need to identify yourself as someone with a felony conviction.鈥�
This year alone, an estimated 4.6 million people, roughly 2% of the voting-age population in the United States, will be ineligible to vote as a result of felony disenfranchisement laws and policies. That鈥檚 according to a , a nonprofit organization aiming to reduce incarceration. Many of these laws date to the Reconstruction era, when they were designed to limit the political participation of the nation鈥檚 Black citizens.
The racial disparities in the ability to vote as a result of these laws are striking. In eight states 鈥� Alabama, Arizona, Florida, Kentucky, Mississippi, South Dakota, Tennessee, and Virginia 鈥� the Sentencing Project found, more than 1 in 10 Black adults is legally barred from voting.
Across the country, 1 in 19 Black people of voting age is barred from voting, a rate 3.5 times higher than their White peers. Fifteen 19 people successfully detained by DeSantis鈥� election task force are Black. The South has historically had the most arcane and complex laws limiting voter eligibility after time in prison.
Despite their fears that a mistake could again land them behind bars, many formerly incarcerated people lead registration efforts of their peers.
For Oliver, who spent time in federal prison for bank robbery before being released in 2018, the risk of a prosecution feels real but isn鈥檛 strong enough to stop him from encouraging others to vote. He works as the state coordinator for The Ordinary People鈥檚 Society, which was founded by Kenneth Glasgow in 2001 to build political power in communities with high rates of incarceration. Glasgow was also once incarcerated and is currently facing federal drug charges (He pleaded not guilty and sees the charges as blowback from his political organizing).
Oliver says that during his conversations when he is out door-knocking, people express misgivings about the Florida arrests.
鈥淭here鈥檚 a fear: 鈥業 want to do the right thing but not sure what that is at this point,鈥欌�� he said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 more or less the feeling.鈥�
I have a family and a daughter in college and I am the sole breadwinner. I cannot do anything that would create any scenario to jeopardize that.A former convict in Alabama, citing Florida as the reason not to register to vote
that election administrators and criminal justice officials often hold incorrect beliefs about voting rights for formerly incarcerated people. Many of those arrested in Florida said they were told they were eligible by state election officials or were able to register without anyone telling them they did not qualify.
The task of explaining their rights is often left to volunteer groups such as the League of Women Voters, Florida Rights Restoration Coalition and the NAACP. These groups worked to re-register voters in Florida after the passage of Amendment 4 in 2018, which initially restored voting rights to over 1 million people before the legislature required that all legal financial obligations accompanying a conviction must be paid off first.
While U.S. District Court Judge Robert L. Hinkle limited the measures in a May 2020 order, the law had already chilled voter registration efforts. 鈥淓ach organization curtailed its voter-registration activities out of fear that citizens who registered with the organization鈥檚 help might be prosecuted, even if the organization and the citizen believed the citizen was eligible,鈥� Hinkle wrote.
As in Florida, many voter registration forms in other states do not actually clarify who is eligible or how to check eligibility status after incarceration. Instead, voters must certify that the information they are providing is correct under the penalty of criminal prosecution. Unlike applications for driver鈥檚 licenses, passports, or other forms of identification, election officials are often not able or not required to inform people of their eligibility status.
鈥淧eople operate under the assumption that if you are ineligible they will tell you,鈥� said Blair Bowie, who leads the efforts, which helps people regain their voting rights. 鈥淭hat is just how most applications work.鈥�
During a voter registration drive in Alabama in partnership with Greater Birmingham Ministries, Bowie said a few of the people reached via text message cited Florida as a reason they would not accept the offer to help restore their voting rights. The Marshall Project reviewed the text correspondence and found the voters brought up Florida unprompted before declining to move forward.
鈥淒on鈥檛 want to fall into a trap like they got in Florida,鈥� one person responded.
For one man, the decision comes down to a common sense calculation: Why risk everything he鈥檚 built after time behind bars just to cast a ballot on election day?
鈥淚 had read that some of the guys in Florida that had their voting rights restored had gotten into some type of trouble cause of it,鈥� he said in his text response; he withheld his name to limit the stigma associated with having a felony conviction. 鈥淚 have a family and a daughter in college and I am the sole breadwinner. I cannot do anything that would create any scenario to jeopardize that.鈥�
This article was published in partnership with , a nonprofit news organization covering the U.S. criminal justice system. Sign up for their , and follow them on , and .
