Most people want the government to work as it was intended: by the people, for the people. But when it comes to the passage of laws that govern the lives of ordinary people, the influence of money and powerful business interests often outweigh the will of the people. At a time when public trust in the government is at an all-time low – in part because of how outside influences can manipulate lawmakers into pursuing problematic policies – Americans are losing faith in the lawmaking process. Lobbying – the lawful attempt to influence the actions or policies of government officials – is far too often guided by the perverse incentive of moneyed interests. We see these outcomes in housing and healthcare policy, budget allocations, and also criminal justice reform. 

Lobbyists for the commercial bail bond industry are a key player in this political money game. According to new reporting by the Center for Media and Democracy, paid lobbyists for the industry have long been working behind the scenes to influence state legislators to walk back cash bail reforms and attack the charitable bail organizations that provide a lifeline for many low-income individuals and families in need. 

ALEC and ABC Team Up

The American Legislative Exchange Council (better known as ALEC) is one such group of legislators and private sector representatives who draft conservative legislation on behalf of lawmakers and are aligned with the interests of the commercial bail bond industry. They’ve had a direct hand in the success of SB 63 in Georgia: the two Republican sponsors of the legislation are members of ALEC. The American Bail Coalition (ABC) is the lobbying body for the commercial bail bond industry that is bent on warding off charitable bail organizations – which they perceive as an existential threat, and simultaneously undermining progressive bail reform that would improve public safety, reduce unnecessary incarceration, and secure due process rights. In recent years, ABC has solidified a close companionship with ALEC and, by its own admission, has influenced 12 bills that strengthen the bail bond industry. It spent $1 million on lobbying in 2022 alone.

The bottom line for these two groups is not for the good of the people or social progress. It’s protecting their wealthy stakeholders: the surety agencies and for-profit bail bond companies who make money off of people who are ensnared in the pretrial system because they cannot post the cash bail that a judge has determined is sufficient to ensure their safe release and return to court.

People vs. Profit 

The bail bond industry these lobbyists work for, by contrast, seeks to maximize its profit by charging anyone they bail out a non-refundable fee of 10–20% of their total bond amount. Because charitable bail organizations like The Bail Project post bail and help low-income people get back to court for free, the bail bond industry views these organizations as direct competition to their revenue generation, and hence an existential threat to their continued operations – despite most recipients of charitable bail being too poor to even afford their fees. The private bail bond industry is so hellbent on disrupting charitable bail support that they even published a briefing document where they laid out their vision for legislating charitable bail organizations that provide free bail assistance out of existence. We can now see this vision borne out through policy making efforts in numerous state legislatures.

Seen in this light, it makes sense why ABC and ALEC have targeted charitable bail organizations. The provision of free pretrial support is a thorn in their ultimate agenda of extracting profit from low-income people ensnared in the cash bail system – a system that the bail bond industry is reliant upon and dedicated to maintaining, despite its harms. So they have adopted a no-holds-barred approach to salvaging their business: tossing millions of dollars into lobbying efforts, at the expense of individual rights and public safety. And, as this new report makes clear, mounting legislative attacks on charitable bail organizations through behind the scenes legislative influencing.

Most Americans want to reduce unnecessary incarceration. Instead of handshakes with ALEC and ABC, legislators should focus on working to build a criminal justice system where cash has no place and our rights are upheld.

Women are the fastest growing group of incarcerated people and the vast majority are of reproductive age. Reproductive health care – which refers to a gamut of services, including but not limited to contraception and pregnancy care – mirrors the state of health care more broadly in jails: it’s inadequate, and often dangerous. Stories from our clients, including Maribeth and Ashley, highlight the dismal reality of being both pregnant and incarcerated as a result of unaffordable cash bail. 

To better understand the state of reproductive care and access in U.S. jails, we spoke with Dr. Carolyn Sufrin, associate professor of gynecology and obstetrics at Johns Hopkins University.

Safety is more than a measure of the presence or absence of crime. It is also safety from the economic, social, and environmental conditions that can lead to harm or diminished life outcomes. This can include, for example, a lack of medical facilities where someone can access treatment if they are or become ill, or a scarcity of quality jobs that leaves people with few employment prospects. 

How do these conditions relate to public safety, though? Take transportation as an example. Research shows that public transportation infrastructure – like a bus or train system that runs on time and is affordable and accessible – allows people to get to work and access critical social services such as substance use treatment that altogether reduce cycles of rearrest and incarceration. The Bail Project’s clients, who return to court more than 91% of the time, receive access to transportation services because we realize that the latter is inadequate or inaccessible to many low-income communities across the United States. There’s also ample evidence that street lighting reduces crime. So too do employment opportunities for teenagers, as well as social cohesion and a person’s willingness to engage with government agencies and actors.

For too long, concerns about public safety have dominated headlines and policy agendas. And time and again, public safety has proven easily manipulated to serve bad-faith politicians looking to score political points instead of enacting effective policy. Everyone deserves to be and feel safe, but what is often the focal point of debates about public safety – more incarceration, more arrests – are policies that most Americans don’t support. What they want instead are things that build strong and healthy communities, like good schools, good jobs, affordable housing, and access to recreational spaces and services that help them get a leg up. 

As public safety has become conflated with the police and jails, we’ve lost sight of the fact that unequal access to opportunities and systemic underinvestment in services establishes the conditions that lead to crime in the first place. Crime occurs everywhere. But neighborhoods that feel less safe tend to be those that have experienced histories of over-policing and residential segregation; the same places that were subjected to “redlining” are places with diminished health outcomes, higher poverty rates, poorer quality housing, and less access to community-based services. 

The more we adopt a comprehensive approach to safety, understanding it as more than just the absence of crime but also the extent to which we provide opportunities for community thriving, the better we’ll be able to develop solutions that really make people safe. 

Local governments have started shifting towards this more holistic approach. Nearly 50 counties and cities have established local offices called “Offices of Neighborhood Safety” (ONS) that adopt a non-punitive, community-centered approach to violence prevention. Richmond, California, for instance, has invested in its ONS and seen tremendous results in the past 15 years: homicides have declined by 62% and firearm assaults have decreased by 79%. And in New York City, the New York City Mayor’s Office of Criminal Justice has developed NeighborhoodStat – a process whereby residents of public housing with high levels of crime are able to collaborate with city officials to develop social and economic solutions that combat the common conditions that produce crime. Examples of how investing in local infrastructure and services creates safer, more resilient communities abound. 

At The Bail Project, too many of our clients have fallen victim to short-sighted approaches to public safety: not only are they denied the presumption of innocence with unaffordable bail amounts, but they’re also not offered access to the help they need to avoid justice-system involvement altogether. Our model of Community Release with Support embodies the core tenets of community safety. 

The verdict is in: we need to rethink the utility of public safety as a term, and welcome community safety as a more accurate alternative. Community safety helps us to move beyond the rhetoric of public safety, which focuses too heavily on policing and incarceration, and allows us to instead concentrate on the factors that we know make communities safe. 

States and jurisdictions across the United States are ending their reliance on cash bail. Harris County, Texas – the home of Houston and third largest urban jurisdiction in the country – is one model of successful reform. In 2019, Harris County began allowing people charged with misdemeanors to be released back into their community without paying cash while they await trial as a part of a comprehensive set of reforms adopted under the O’Donnell consent decree. A court-appointed independent monitor was also set up to review and report on the reforms.

To better understand bail reform in Harris County, we spoke with the monitor, Professor Brandon L. Garrett.

For about 25 years, Antoine, 45, has been the “go-to” artist for local businesses on the Flathead Indian Reservation in Montana. If people need new logos, signs, posters, or T-shirts, they come to Antoine.

“My dad was an artist. My mother, my brother, my sister, [too] – just an artistic family,” he said. “It would have been weird if I didn’t become an artist.”

Antoine has been able to rely on word of mouth to advertise his services. His name is on artwork all over his community. One of his paintings was used as a movie poster for a documentary about how bison first came to the Flathead Indian Reservation.

A father of five kids, Antoine is especially close to his youngest, an 8-year-old son. “I see him every day,” he said.” I talk to him every day. He’s a daddy’s boy.”

Last year, Antoine and his son became separated when Antoine was arrested for his second time driving under the influence. He was detained in jail for about a month on bail he couldn’t afford. His incarceration took a toll on everyone in the family, especially his son. A month seemed like forever. For the young boy, it was traumatic.

“Just being separated like that, you know, it’s terribly emotional, and not just emotional for [my son]. You know, it was emotional for me and everybody else who has to kind of deal with all that.”

After a month in jail, Antoine was put on probation, and he worked hard to follow all of the rules. He was highly motivated because if he violated probation, he’d likely have to go back to jail for an additional 210 days. He couldn’t imagine putting his family through that.

Antoine says he was sober for almost the entire year of probation. But alcohol use disorder is common in the United States – affecting more than 10% of Americans – and difficult to break. Most people relapse within their first year.

Antoine relapsed with just a few days left on his probation. “It only took one day to screw it all up,” he said. “A whole year down the drain.”

Antoine was charged with violating his probation and bail was set at $5,000, which he was again unable to afford. He had begun serving a sentence before he was convicted – simply because he didn’t have the cash. Once he was incarcerated, Antoine’s family, including his young son, lost contact with him again.

While detained, Anoine anticipated the worst. When he was initially placed on probation, he had been warned that any violation would mean that he’d have to spend 210 days in jail, so he prepared to spend that time in jail away from his family.

The United States has the highest incarceration rate in the world. Almost 70% percent of people in local jails have not been convicted or sentenced, but are in jail because they can’t pay bail. The incarcerated population has nearly quadrupled since the 1980s, according to the Prison Policy Initiative. This two-tiered system of justice, where those with money to pay bail are released, and those without money stay in jail, means that those who cannot afford bail are serving a sentence before even being convicted of a crime.

“All of these people just can’t afford to be out,” Antoine said, reflecting on the people he saw alongside him in jail.

Most Americans would be unable to pay a $5,000 bail, like Antoine. The majority (57%) of Americans cannot afford an unexpected $1,000 expense, according to a recent study by Bankrate. For people living in poverty, finding $5,000, let alone $500, can be impossible. “There are a lot of people who I spent time in jail with who couldn’t even get out with a $100 bail,” Antoine said. “They just can’t.”

Like Antoine, many people fall into despair as they wait for the resolution of their case from behind bars. Hopeless, some plead guilty to crimes they believe they are innocent of, just so they can go home: the pressure to resolve their case and escape jail is that great.

In his 20s and early 30s, Michael seemed successful and happy.

He had risen up the ranks at a national chain restaurant – and was the youngest person in the region, maybe the country, to become the general manager of one of their locations. He was working hard – 70 hours a week – and making good money. He thought he was having fun on his time off as well.

But when Michael looks back on it now, he realizes he was already struggling with addiction. He drank too much and used cocaine. He sometimes came to work without having slept at all the night before. But he still got the job done. He was masking his addiction fairly well.

That eventually changed. The substance use, the hours, and the lack of sleep all took its toll. He left his job and briefly moved out of state. Most critically, Michael was injured in a motorcycle accident and prescribed opioid analgesics (more commonly known as prescription painkillers), which he also became addicted to.

For many people, opioid addiction begins with a prescription for medication to treat pain for a physical injury. These prescription medications are as addictive as illicit opioids like heroin. With all categories of opioids – whether prescribed or purchased on the street – people require higher and higher dosages to overcome their increasing tolerance. This tolerance leads to dependence, characterized by withdrawal symptoms that occur as the drug leaves a person’s system, bringing immense discomfort. Despite being prescribed by a doctor, many people still become dependent.

Michael, like many people who become dependent on prescribed opioids, began using heroin when he could no longer access his prescriptions. To support his addiction, he eventually began selling it, too.

For people who loved him, like his sister, Taylor, Michael’s lapse into heroin addiction was terrifying to watch. She knew that it was potentially lethal. Opioid use interrupts the part of a person’s brain that controls the breathing reflex. In high dosages, people can go into respiratory arrest. “Growing up, it was just me and him. We were best friends,” Taylor said. “I never thought that someday he would not be around. I thought we would be the best brother and sister, even in adulthood. I never envisioned him not being there.”

Taylor had lost one friend to drug addiction and was scared to lose Michael, too. She did what she could to educate herself on addiction, one day watching a TED Talk by Johann Hari, researcher and author of “Lost Connections,” in which the author offers the hypothesis that addiction is exacerbated by weakening social ties. According to Hari, social connections are a powerful tool to help people break their addiction.

The TED talk resonated with Taylor because she had taken a hard-line stance when her friend was struggling with addiction by distancing herself and cutting off ties. Now she wished she would have made an effort to stay more connected. She vowed to do better with Michael – and she did. “A lot of people cut ties with me,” Michael said. “But my sister stuck with me.”

Specialists of addiction medicine would confirm that Michael was struggling with a chemical addiction that infiltrated all parts of his life and had spiraled beyond his control. His dependence made him sick. He would go into regular withdrawals and to keep his body functioning, he regularly broke the law. Eventually, Michael was arrested for selling heroin and sentenced to three years in prison.

To Michael, it seemed like it might be a turning point. “I thrived in prison,” he said. “I was super healthy. I was disciplined in prison. I did everything. I tutored people to help them get their GED in prison.” He was also sober.

For Taylor, the time her brother spent in prison was bittersweet. She missed him and staying in touch was difficult – phone calls were expensive and visits were sometimes difficult to orchestrate. “But I knew where he was and I knew he was safe to an extent,” she said.

While in some ways Michael was healthier when he was in prison, he had not taken steps to address the root causes of his addiction. Being in a custodial setting made sobriety easier to achieve, but he wasn’t learning the skills he would need to stay sober once he got out.

When he was released, he found himself consumed by anxiety and fear. “It’s uncomfortable. I didn’t know how to handle it,” he said. Like many people reentering society after a period of incarceration, he faced an especially challenging environment. He had a felony conviction on his record, which made finding employment and accessing supportive services more difficult. He was also reorienting himself to his family and social life. But, having not achieved the tools he believed he needed to stay sober, he was almost immediately using heroin again.

Within a short period of time, Michael was unhoused and living in a park. Then he was arrested again, this time for drug possession. Bail was set at $500, which he could not afford.

“I realized I needed to change something in my life,” he said. “I was just doing the same things and hoping for a different result.”

He was incarcerated in the Maricopa County jails, which have been notorious for harsh conditions and poor-quality food. In 2008 and 2010, a federal judge said the county jails violated the rights of those being held by serving moldy or rotten food, denying health care, among other injustices. A new sheriff elected in 2016 promised to make reforms, but the jail has remained controversial because of its handling of Covid-19 in 2020 and how staffing challenges have affected conditions in the jail.

Michael said that while he was there, he was provided two small meals a day – once every 12 hours. Every morning, he had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, milk, an orange, and two cookies the size of an Oreo. For dinner, he had something they called “slop” and broccoli stems – not the florets – with applesauce and the same cookies.

Michael’s next court date was a month away, and without $500 for bail, he had no way of getting out before then. He didn’t have a lot of confidence that the judge would do anything but sentence him harshly. He felt hopeless. Although he believed in himself, he felt that no one else would.

But then he got some great news. His girlfriend had contacted The Bail Project to ask for assistance paying his bail. In her request for support, she noted that Michael had saved her from an abusive relationship – and had always supported her.

In short order, The Bail Project paid bail and Michael was released. The staff helped connect him to recovery resources and provided him with rides to court. That meant that when Michael did appear before the judge, he was sober, with almost a month of recovery behind him. He had a new job working to assemble and disassemble office furniture. With his earnings, he could buy nice clothes to wear to court.

Michael said being out on bail made a huge difference. “I had the opportunity to start putting some action behind what I was talking about. I was able to be proactive before going to court – instead of showing up to court in my oranges [i.e., jail clothes]. Already, I was doing what I’m supposed to do.”

Research shows that being released pretrial can make meaningful differences on individual court outcomes. Research shows that relative to similarly situated individuals who are detained pretrial, individuals who are released during pretrial are significantly less likely to be: convicted; sentenced to incarceration; and receive longer sentences. Simply being detained pretrial creates a greater likelihood of being convicted and receiving a harsher sentence compared to those who are not detained pretrial. Evidence also points to how pretrial detention leads to consequences outside of the criminal justice system, too. For instance, formerly incarcerated people can struggle to find employment, and when they do, they experience a decrease in average hourly wage and annual earnings.

Michael says that through his recovery program, he has learned how to better manage his emotions and his reactions, especially by using concepts of acceptance and mindfulness. He is better able to examine his own reactions and triggers. He is living in a sober living facility with five other men, all who are serious about their sobriety.

“My life is now a full 180 degrees different,” he said. “I wake up, I work, I attend meetings…I have a completely different outlook on life. I’m more at peace.”

For Taylor, Michael’s new life is amazing. For loved ones, spending unstructured time together with someone who had been previously incarcerated is especially precious. Taylor and Michael get together every Sunday, go out on lunch dates, and shop at thrift stores. When Taylor was getting ready to move, she asked him to come over and help with heavy furniture. It was an emotional moment for her.

“It was nice to have someone reliable to count on again,” Taylor said. “And it’s my brother! I love having him in my life.”

Now, Michael sometimes sees unhoused people living in the park in Phoenix, carrying their backpacks in the heat. He knows many of them are struggling with addictions. “That was me, every day,” he said.

Michael is enjoying a new chapter in his life. “This is the most mature [I’ve felt in] my life,” he said. “I feel like I’m heading in the right direction.”

In recent decades, media outlets and nonprofit organizations have made a concerted attempt to rewrite the way we talk about people that come into contact with the criminal justice system. Eddie Ellis, the late founder of the Center for NuLeadership on Urban Solutions, paved the way through a letter that made a passionate call for people who have been involved in the criminal justice system to be referred to as just that: people.

At The Bail Project, we consider ourselves a part of this urgent effort. With every linguistic course correction we make, we’re dulling the edges of misinformation and creating a fuller and more accurate image of justice-impacted people. No matter the medium, we are committed to using language that reinforces the humanity of people in the criminal justice system – an approach called “people-first.”

A people-first approach responds to the dehumanizing, and often factually incorrect, characterization of justice-impacted people through terms such as “criminal,” “ex-convict,” “felon,” “inmate,” and so on. These terms are always reductive. They are incorrect in particular during the pretrial period – referring to the time between a person’s arrest and the conclusion of their case – because a person charged with a crime has yet to have a trial that determines their guilt or innocence. And outside of the pretrial period, too, a person cannot be reduced to their interaction with the criminal justice system, which is precisely what the term “criminal” does.

In doing so, these commonly used terms make it easier to forget the rights that each person has access to in the pretrial period, including the presumption of innocence and due process. It’s also easier to overlook the fact that unaffordable cash bail leads to the unnecessary incarceration of tens of thousands of people each year, landing them inside deplorable jails with inhumane and unsanitary conditions.

This type of language carves a negative image that amplifies perceptions of their supposed and often unsubstantiated dangerousness. This approach, in attempting to create a throughline between people released from pretrial detention and crime, risks prejudicing public opinion and therefore undermines progressive reform.

To show how a people-first approach can be applied, let’s look at a few use cases from our writing at The Bail Project. Other disciplines, such as social work and public health, have similarly adopted people-first language. As you’ll see, we’ve followed suit in the way we describe the intersecting issues that people in the criminal justice system face.

Justice-impacted people. We don’t use terms such as “inmate,” “parolee,” “probationer,” “offender” or “convicts.” Instead, we apply the construction “person who is in jail,” “person on probation,” or “incarcerated person.”

Substance use disorder. We do not use the term “addict,” but instead refer to a person living with a substance use disorder or addiction. Where possible, we specify the substance a person uses in excess: detail can have a humanizing effect, painting the particular strokes of a person’s life story. This additional layer of information can also point towards systemic issues at play, reinforcing substance use disorder as a disease influenced by social and economic determinants, not personal choice.

Mental health issues. We refer to people who live with or have a mental health illness. For instance, we would exchange “a schizophrenic” with “a person living with” or “a person that has” schizophrenia. Where possible, we add context to a diagnosis – for instance, if a person has a mental health illness according to their parents or a diagnosis by a health professional.

Insecure housing. We avoid the term “the homeless” and refer instead to a “person experiencing homelessness” or the “unhoused community.”

Poverty. We do not use the term “poor people.” Instead, we use “people in poverty” or “people experiencing poverty.”

At The Bail Project, our style guide takes into account the nuances of lived experience, the preferences of community members, and readability. It can be summarized in three points:

1. Put the person first
2. Avoid stigmatizing words
3. Use specificity

Critics may think this reconsideration of language to be pedantic, or irrelevant to the broader project of criminal justice reform. But building a more accurate and human image of the people caught up in the pretrial system is the basis from which we can create a more just and equitable system that does not depend on cash bail. Words matter. So do people.

For a stretch of time, Trevor, 44, had his life on track. He was living on the Flathead Indian Reservation in Montana and was married with four kids. He had a good job with the power company. There was a lot of stability in his life.

But he was also struggling with alcoholism.

“I’m [an] alcoholic. I come from a family of alcoholics, and it finally caught up with me,” he said.

Over the past five or six years, his marriage got rockier and his drinking got worse. He and his wife went through periods of separation. And he found that without the structure of family life, he had more opportunities to drink.

Eventually, things came to a head in 2021 when he received two offenses for driving while under the influence. The consequences were enormous: he lost his license, his job, and his marriage. He served more than 100 days in jail and attended treatment as part of his sentence.

“I was a high-functioning alcoholic, until I wasn’t anymore,” he said.

The combination of incarceration with the peer support he found in treatment programs lent itself to a period of sobriety. The positive changes stemming from his sobriety were immediately evident. His driving privileges were restored and he found another good job, working for a contractor who builds substations.

His recovery stalled, though, when he had a relapse in 2023. Relapse is a common occurrence during recovery from alcoholism, as it is with any type of addiction. Between 70-90% of people in recovery have at least one lapse out of sobriety, according to Psychology Today.

This time, he woke up in jail with no memory of being arrested. A law enforcement officer had found him passed out in a car in dangerously cold conditions. “I’m just glad I didn’t kill someone or kill myself,” he said.

Alcohol Use Disorder is common in the United States, affecting more than 10% of the adult population, according to the National Institute of Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (NIAAA). That number is even higher in Native American and Alaskan Native populations, affecting more than 15% of the population, also according to the NIAAA.

The signs of alcoholism are not always obvious to friends, family, or coworkers, according to the The National Institutes of Health. Like Trevor, some are able to conceal their excessive drinking for years. Many people who become dependent on alcohol struggle to admit that they have a problem. As a result, some people battle alcohol dependence for years before getting help.

But heavy drinking is also correlated with arrests and incarceration. In some criminal cases, the impact of alcohol is indirect – drinking can lower inhibitions and impair judgment. In other cases, such as in driving under the influence, alcohol is a more direct element in the arrest.

People suffering from alcoholism are statistically more likely than people without the disease to be incarcerated at some point in their lives. A 2022 study by Corrections Today found that crime is more closely linked to alcohol abuse than any other drug, and that crime and alcohol have a “synergistic” relationship – meaning alcohol use can contribute to crimes, and crimes can lead to alcohol use. The Bureau of Justice Statistics reports that between 25-33% of people incarcerated in state and federal prisons were drinking at the time of their offense.

Trevor was actually thankful that he was arrested. He believes that being brought in out of the cold may have saved his life. But those first days in jail during his second incarceration were overwhelming as he confronted the consequences of his relapse.

“You get pretty lonely even though you are with other people,” he said. “There is nothing to do. You are missing your family. You try not to go crazy.”

He saw many of the same people in jail that he had seen the last time he was there. They were all struggling with similar issues, and the environment was tense, with people often starting fights with each other out of boredom or stress. “It was depressing,” he said.

But then he heard that The Bail Project was paying his $1,000 bail.

“It felt like somebody was rooting for me,” he said. “After everything that [was] happening, everyone [was] turning their back on me. And I can see why. But with The Bail Project, there was a glimmer of hope that had never happened before.”

Some people argue that bail is the only incentive that will ensure people come back to court for hearings or trial, or even return to serve a jail sentence if one is imposed. But this is a myth. In Trevor’s case, he returned to all of his court dates. Ultimately, he was sentenced to 30 days in jail and willingly returned to serve his time. “This is my home,” he said, referring to the Flathead Reservation. “And I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

At The Bail Project, when we post bail for our clients like Trevor, they return to nearly all of their court dates. People come back, even with none of their own money on the line, because they are motivated by a simple desire to put their case to rest, irrespective of whether it ends in a determination of guilt or innocence.

Now out of jail, Trevor is taking anger management classes, attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and participating in other counseling. He’s been living in Morning Star, the first permanent supportive housing facility on Flathead Reservation. It’s helped him remain stably housed despite periods of incarceration and provided him with supportive services to maintain his sobriety.

Trevor has also enrolled in Salish Kootenai College to study the Salish language, a Native American language common in the Pacific Northwest. Trevor enjoyed studying the language in high school and eventually wants to teach Salish. Trevor finds it to be a good incentive to avoid drinking.

“Today, I’m pretty confident,” he said.