Jeff Hobbs, who wrote the bestselling and widely acclaimed THE SHORT AND TRAGIC LIFE OF ROBERT PEACE, turns his investigative eye and warm storytelling to our nation’s incarcerated youth in CHILDREN OF THE STATE.

In an emotional and electrifying author’s note, Hobbs explains his approach to this book. In 2019, he spent significant time in three different spaces within the juvenile justice system. Two of them were secure placement facilities, while the third was a respected diversion program dedicated to helping young people avoid further contact with the legal system while reclaiming forward movement in their lives. While Hobbs had previous connections with each of the locations he profiles, he notes that this did not make his writing easier, just less complicated.

As part of his research, Hobbs spent one week per month at each location, participating in every aspect of the juveniles’ days --- from exercise at 7:00am to recreation time after dinner and all of the English, math and social studies classes in between. While his research was halted by the COVID-19 pandemic (a tragedy that put an end to most of the youths’ imprisonments and access to rehabilitative care), he continued to keep in touch with as many of his characters as possible.

CHILDREN OF THE STATE is divided into three “books,” beginning with “Residence,” the story of the incarceration of Josiah Wright, who was arrested for property destruction and assault, a common offense for many of his peers. Originally detained for 11 months, Josiah was released only to end up violating his parole and being given a harsher, more severe sentence of a full year. During this time, he was held at the Ferris School for Boys, the sole youth residential facility in Delaware for the last hundred years. The school operates under the purview of the state’s Department of Services for Children, Youth & Their Families. It is ostensibly aimed at rehabilitating at-risk youth and sending them on a better path in society. But as readers will more than likely expect, the intentions do not often match the results.

"Hobbs presents a fully fleshed-out, sobering and well-argued case for reform. The solution, he argues, will come when citizens, police officers and lawmakers start to think of children as redeemable and worthy rather than embarrassing marks on our (let’s face it, less than stellar) national reputation."

Right from the start, Hobbs’ profile of Josiah is tender yet realistic. He notes that Josiah --- who witnessed three deaths, two of them violent, before even encountering the judicial system himself --- is prone to posturing, a defense mechanism employed by many of his peers that often results in a self-fulfilling prophecy of disengagement, frustration and anger. Still a child, Josiah is not stupid or narcissistic, but he has been condemned to a path of recidivism because of a foolish, impulsive decision, the likes of which are committed by any number of white, Black or Latine children every day. Yet it is always the Black and brown people who are persecuted more strongly and wind up in residential facilities like the Ferris School. Josiah is self-aware enough to recognize the path he is on (and, on a smaller scale, the inevitability of his winding up on it). During the course of Hobbs’ yearlong profile of him, he debates with great maturity and wisdom the pros and cons of pursuing a college education.

In the second book, “Education,” Hobbs relocates to the Woodside Learning Center in San Francisco, a court facility that houses juvenile arrestees awaiting sentencing but who are deemed unfit to be free in the meantime. While he again introduces several youths similar to Josiah, he focuses here on language arts teacher Megan Mercurio and principal Chris Lanier. Both dedicated to teaching and counseling their students, Megan and Chris are invigorated by small wins --- a smile, a breakthrough, a fleeting moment of compassion --- while equally beleaguered by poor funding, meager resources and the inevitability that many of the children they teach will either wind up in prison, dead or both. Even worse, the student they form a bond with today could be murdered tomorrow upon release…and their murderer (if he is a teen himself) may be sitting in their classrooms the next day.

When we meet Megan and Chris, the city of San Francisco has announced that they will be redesigning and reforming facilities like Woodside. But this apparent step forward lacks some serious groundwork: the men and women who have made careers out of caring for their students and putting their own hearts and bodies at risk have not been considered or consulted in the reforms. Even worse, Woodside has been given a closing date --- a win for social justice reform advocates, but a decision that, without a solid alternative, will likely harm more children than it helps. While Megan, Chris and their peers are aware of the fine line they walk between wanting to help students without condemning them to a lifetime of institutions, incarcerations and recidivism, they feel unheard, unsupported and untrusted, despite giving so much of themselves to the cause.

Finally, in the third book, “Exile,” Hobbs turns his investigative eye to Exalt Youth. This New York City-based nonprofit helps youths who already have entered the juvenile justice system find new paths forward with internships and jobs, which are typically inaccessible to anyone with a record. The most promising facility profiled here, Exalt Youth provides a resounding glimmer of hope. Still, though, Hobbs cannot hide the truth: programs like these can only help so much. Without proper support, financial means and training, along with emotional awareness, many of the youths who are given positions cannot hold them. Or if they can, they find the internships meaningless as their families and peers struggle to keep food on the table or pay rent at their minimum-wage jobs.

While this portion of the book is perhaps the most uplifting, Hobbs is careful not to sugarcoat the successes. The young men and women who are able to enter predominantly white and wealthy spaces and succeed are exceptions, not rules, and the trauma that these endeavors often causes is not always equal to the rewards.

The throughline of this impressively researched and reported narrative is one that readers have likely heard before, but perhaps never considered on a personal scale. First, Black and brown youths are too often persecuted and prosecuted at rates unequal to their white peers. Second, too many prosecutors, jailers and legislators view these literal children as career criminal adults. And third, even with rehabilitative measures, many of the children who encounter the juvenile justice system just once will more than likely reoffend or die by violent, pointless and unnecessary means.

Just as he did in THE SHORT AND TRAGIC LIFE OF ROBERT PEACE, Hobbs presents a fully fleshed-out, sobering and well-argued case for reform. The solution, he argues, will come when citizens, police officers and lawmakers start to think of children as redeemable and worthy rather than embarrassing marks on our (let’s face it, less than stellar) national reputation.