Editor’s note: This content deals with an account of violence and sexual assault that may be triggering to some people.

We all know that Grinnell College is a highly selective institution that must turn away more than 70 percent of those who apply. But there is another path to a Grinnell education.

One recipient of Grinnell instruction is serving a life sentence for murder. In 1981, while on probation for burglary and arson, he shot and killed two teenagers, then stuffed their bodies in the trunk of a car left abandoned at a quarry.

Another recent Grinnell student was convicted, along with two other men, in the 1990 kidnapping, beating and sexual assault of a 15-year-old girl. According to authorities, the attackers brutally gang raped the girl while punching her in the face, knocking her head against a gravestone and urinating on her.

These individuals have taken Grinnell courses via the school’s Liberal Arts in Prison Program (LAPP), which offers prisoners an opportunity to earn a year of college credit, with grades recorded on an official Grinnell transcript.

I struggle with this, and not because of some deep-rooted law-and-order mentality. In fact, I write checks to the Innocence Project and the American Civil Liberties Union, and since graduating from Grinnell in 1982, I’ve made regular contributions to my alma mater because I want to help deserving students in their work for social justice.

The key word here is “deserving.” Is it fair, is it truly just, to offer some criminals unique and valuable opportunities that we traditionally and rightly grant according to merit, and which we deny to many deserving applicants because their exemplary behavior is not quite good enough?

Advocates of college-in-prison programs point to the low recidivism rates of inmates who participate, concluding that such education increases the likelihood that released prisoners will find stable employment, thus reducing the chance they’ll return to a life of crime.

On the surface this makes sense.

But upon closer look, it’s clear that the low recidivism rates are more attributable to selection bias than the actual education. By first requesting prisoners who have a genuine interest in college study to apply (self-selection) and then choosing among these the most intelligent, articulate candidates (another tier of selection), Grinnell is assembling a cohort that is much more likely to assimilate back into society—even if they had never taken college classes—than members of the general prison population.

Actually, this fallacy was pointed out in an article about college-in-prison programs in the November 2014 issue of Smithsonian magazine. Still, I venture that no argument will prompt Grinnell to discontinue LAPP, which enlists President Emeritus George Drake to travel the Midwest with former prisoners to promote the program, and which invites these ex-cons to campus each summer for the annual alumni reunion. 

So … some final thoughts.

Our world is full of moral ambiguity, so I suspect that few of us are comfortable with the position that anyone be exclusively and forever defined, their future irrevocably chartered, by a cruel and destructive act. But perhaps our compassion should include another group seldom mentioned in discussions about college-in-prison programs: the victims. During my research on LAPP, I’ve learned that the crimes of these men are rarely disclosed or discussed. And, according to LAPP coordinator Emily Guenther, professors and students who volunteer in LAPP are not encouraged to ask.

After all, as long as the victims remain out of the picture, it’s easy to sidestep the moral questions raised by the trail of pain and grief left behind by LAPP participants.   

For instance, should all criminals, no matter how heinous or despicable their crime, be eligible for consideration in LAPP? A terrorist whose bomb kills some and seriously maims hundreds more? The perpetrator of a vicious hate crime? A child molester?

Or, would it be appropriate to exclude some types of offenders as a forceful expression of our moral condemnation, which one could argue is an essential obligation of any society that values the rights and safety of its citizens?

And what about the concept of restorative justice, which has been increasingly advocated by some proponents of college-in-prison programs? One may fairly ask that if Grinnell believes its instruction to be a transforming experience for those who have committed serious crimes, shouldn’t the same opportunity be freely extended to those who have suffered at the hands of these individuals?

All difficult but legitimate and meaningful questions. As long as Grinnell keeps victims in the shadows, however, it won’t find many answers.

  Randy Gleason ’82 welcomes comments at rgleason3@juno.com.