Two weeks ago, George Toole was an inmate.
Today, he’s employed, has a place to live and vows not to take anything for granted.
His life today is thanks in no small part, he says, to the Georgetown County Sheriff’s Department Re-Entry Program, and specifically to the woman who runs it, Deborah Barr.
Six years ago, Toole received a 17-year sentence for manufacturing methamphetamine. It was his first conviction, and, he said, his last.
“When you go into prison, you can go one way or the other,” he said. “The choice is up to the individual.”
After hearing a fellow inmate talking about the “school” Barr runs to teach prisoners trades and how to transition back into the community so they will have options other than crime, he decided to apply. More than 60 people have graduated the program.
Four years later, Toole had earned 16 certifications -- including some of the country’s highest -- in heating and air conditioning repair. Barr helped him apply for parole, helped him find an affordable place to live in Georgetown, get his driver’s license, Social Security card and birth certificate back, helped him with clothes for his life on the outside, and even went to his job interview with him. One of the other program graduates gave him a personal loan so he could get started.
The day Toole walked out of prison, he had a job to go to, as did all of the 67 other graduates of the 5-year-old program that is funded by a grant from the Waccamaw Regional Council of Governments and the Georgetown County Sheriff’s Department. This year it earned a statewide achievement award for corrections education.
But for Barr, the real reward is in seeing the men move on each year with the promise of new lives.
“I’m just so proud of them,” she said.
Each term, there are about 25 state inmates in the program, or about 50 a year. About 10 people a year graduate, some with certificates in HVAC or as electricians or carpenters, some who will work for the county in maintenance, parks or other service jobs.
Georgetown County Detention Center is a designated facility that can hold state inmates who have demonstrated good behavior for an extended period and have no sexual charges against them. Those are the men who get the opportunity to participate in the program.
In addition to trades, they learn practical skills like personal finance management and basic life skills. Toole got his first paycheck this week, and said he is now better able to understand how to manage his money.
Each Christmas, Barr and a large group of volunteers offer another facet of re-entry to the inmates, as well: a holiday party where they can make strides toward reconnecting with their families.
This year, so many families participated, they had to hold the party at the sheriff’s office instead of at the classroom on the jail campus.
More than 40 children and 200 adults took part, including many of the 68 program graduates.
People donate gifts for the inmates to give to their children, volunteers provide a feast and music, and the inmates get to spend a large part of the day working on family relationships.
“The people’s families, they are just dumbfounded by the party they throw for the holidays,” Toole said. “But that’s all thanks to the sheriff -- he really goes all out for us.”
Toole, 36, is procrastinating on that part of his life, he said. His family is in Georgia, and “they are mad at me.”
His criminal behavior, he said, was not because of poverty or a poor upbringing.
“I made selfish, stupid mistakes, but I always knew what I was doing was wrong,” he said frankly. “I am paying a big price for the decisions I’ve made. But (prison) was necessary. There was no rehab, no 12-step program that was going to help me.”
He was amazed by the change in some of the other men who were in the re-entry program, too, and credits Barr completely.
“There might be other people who could do what she’s doing, but not the way she does it,” he said. “Some people, I’d think ‘no way he’s going to make it,’ but six months later, Ms. Barr’s got him turned around, paying attention, working hard.
“She pushes, but most of us guys need that push. There are those who not only don’t mind that push, they even kind of crave it.”
Being in prison, he said, he had plenty of time to think about his life, where he went wrong and what he wanted to do about it.
“I’d think about the things that I used to take for granted,” he said. “In prison, you can’t go outside and have a cup of coffee on your front porch in the mornings. Now I can, and I’m not taking it for granted. I appreciate it.”
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