In a cherished home movie, you can see Jerry Vega holding his daughter at her first birthday party. It’s come to represent a particular moment in time, a moment before the justice system would upend their lives. Just a few months later, in August of 1988, Jerry was arrested on nonviolent drug charges, which, under the draconian drug laws of the era, resulted in a sentence of fifty-five years to life.  

In December of 2020, pursuant to the First Step Act, after serving more than 30 years in federal prison, Jerry was granted compassionate release. He was 65 years old. He was released onto home confinement and placed on an ankle monitor. Living with his daughter and her mother, he was determined to help around the apartment. “I don’t feel like being an imposition on anyone,” he says. He was simply grateful for a new shot at life. 

But he soon learned how fragile his newfound freedom was—fragile enough to be revoked for taking out the trash. 

“I’m helping clean the apartment,” he remembers, “and I grab the trash and step out into the hallway.” Suddenly, he heard his daughter’s mother’s voice calling out to him from down the building hallway. He had strayed too far. The monitor was going off, and his officer was getting ready to send someone over to arrest him.   

“That phone call really got me—to think that I can go back to prison for taking out the garbage,” he says.

Does this sound like justice? 

After one year on home confinement, Jerry was transitioned to a five-year sentence on federal supervised release. This meant that Jerry still lived with the daily anxiety that a single technical violation could land him back behind bars. He had just started working for REFORM Alliance as an advocacy fellow, and he lived with the anxiety that a technical violation could undo his hard-won progress.  

Once, Jerry left the house just after dawn to get to an early morning work event. While riding the subway, he got a call from his probation officer, notifying him that he wasn’t supposed to leave his home until a certain time. I didn’t know whether to go back home or make it to work on time,” Jerry remembers.

Under current supervision systems, such incidents are distressingly common. On any given day, roughly 280,000 people are in prison for violating a condition of probation or parole. Each and every day, people find themselves back behind bars not for committing a new crime, but for minor missteps—like leaving home at the wrong time or crossing county lines without permission.

Jerry stands beside his mother Anna, niece Liza, Liza’s husband Jason, and daughter Jerri—just days after coming home in December 2020.

Jerry spent three years on federal supervised release without a blemish on his record. Taking note of Jerry’s incredible progress, his probation officer motioned the court to file for early termination. But even with this recommendation, the request was still denied, forcing Jerry to serve out the remainder of his five-year term. 

At REFORM, Jerry has made significant and enduring contributions to the work and mission. As program coordinator, Jerry works to provide returning citizens with the guidance they need—through developing a federal resource guide and managing correspondence with people who are still incarcerated. He’s determined to make sure everyone still trapped in the system is treated with the dignity they deserve. 

“I know what it’s like to come home and try to navigate the system. And it’s important for folks to know that someone out there is listening,” Jerry says. “It goes a long way.”  

He is also a strong proponent of the SAFER Supervision Act, federal legislation that would modernize supervised release. His own experience testifies to the urgent need to create a system that actually keeps people safe. 

Jerry now works for REFORM Alliance, helping people reenter communities. What motivates him to fight for a better system is his family. Here he is with his daughter.

Jerry has worked hard to get where he is, and he knows there’s always more work to do. “I want to leave a legacy my daughter can be proud of,” he says. When the family watches that home movie now, they can do so together. For Jerry, it represents more than that moment in time; it represents the love that kept him going in all the years since—and the triumph of hope.