Column: Putting up barriers for ex-felons doesn't protect community; it puts it at greater risk

A good job is one of the best ways to prevent people with a criminal history from re-offending. Just ask Maryland grocer Altimont Mark Wilks, who turned his life around after years in prison by opening a community-focused convenience store. Yet in Sumter County, South Carolina, a local ordinance bars many ex-offenders from earning an honest living.

County councilman Carlton Washington is looking to change that at the council meeting this Tuesday, but other council members want to keep the harmful policy in place.

Starting a business requires a business license. For most, this only involves filling out paperwork and paying a fee. But a county ordinance shuts ex-offenders out of this process. The ordinance allows the county to deny or revoke a license to anyone convicted of a broad range of non-violent crimes going back 10 years, even after the person has served their time.

Policies like Sumter's make it harder for people to turn their lives around. My organization, the Institute for Justice (IJ), represents people harmed by these policies nationwide. Just last year IJ helped Altimont sue the U.S. Department of Agriculture, which prohibited him from accepting SNAP payments at his store due to his 20-year-old conviction. A similar law stopped Rudy Carey from becoming a substance abuse counselor in Virginia because his own battles with drugs and alcohol decades ago left him with a criminal record.

IJ represents individuals like Altimont and Rudy because people who've paid their debt to society have the right to make a better life for themselves. Laws that needlessly restrict people from working violate that right. Targeted restrictions - like laws prohibiting convicted forgers from becoming notaries - are reasonable and exist statewide. But that's not Sumter's ordinance. Instead of determining whether someone is truly a risk to the community, it grants broad powers to deny licenses indiscriminately and without proper legal processes. That's unfair and likely unconstitutional.

The county's policy isn't only unjust, it's short sighted. Making it harder for ex-offenders to earn a living increases the pressure to return to crime. A 2016 report from Arizona State University found that burdensome licensing barriers significantly restricted states' ability to lower rates of re-offending. So while Sumter's ordinance was designed to reduce crime, it's more likely to do the opposite. If Altimont lived in Sumter County instead of Maryland, the ordinance would have stopped him from opening the store that got him back on his feet.

And much like Altimont and Rudy, ex-offenders who've turned their lives around play a valuable role in Sumter County communities. Take Derek Gamble. Derek, an outspoken critic of the ordinance, served time for drug offenses but now helps ex-offenders find jobs when they leave prison. He talked about how working as a hot dog vendor helped him move forward with this life after completing his sentence and led him to help others. But rather than encourage people to follow in Derek's footsteps, the county shuts them out of the business community for a decade. That's a problem because the first three years after release are when ex-offenders are most likely to re-offend.

Communities shouldn't make it harder for ex-offenders to get a fresh start. South Carolina is already a difficult place to get back on your feet - an IJ study rates its licensing restrictions among the harshest nationwide - and Sumter's ordinance increases that burden. Helping ex-convicts turn their lives around is a win-win: the person earns a lawful living, and the community has fewer people resorting to crime. Residents should ask their council members to change the ordinance this Tuesday and stop discouraging honest entrepreneurship in Sumter County.

James Knight is an attorney and Matthew Prensky is a writer for the Institute for Justice.