Beyond the Box: How to Create Real Second Chances for Maryland’s Justice-Involved Youth

Many young people in Maryland who have been involved with the justice system struggle to find good jobs or steady opportunities after their release. The systems meant to help them succeed—schools, training programs, and job centers—often are not connected with each other or designed to meet their real needs. While Maryland has created programs such as EARN Maryland, Grads2Careers, and various apprenticeship opportunities to support youth, too many system-involved youth still face significant barriers, including limited job access, stigma associated with having a record, and a lack of mentors or sustained support. In Maryland, 70 percent of collateral consequences—the ongoing and compounding penalties that affect justice-involved individuals long after that involvement has ended—for convictions are employment-related, with 33 percent being mandatory prohibitions that bar employment, retention, or licensing without exception, and 67 percent lasting indefinitely.

This report looks at how Maryland can build stronger pathways to employment success for justice-involved youth using a unique approach: listening to directly impacted young people and understanding the challenges they face in finding meaningful work. By listening to them and building solutions based on their insights, we can finally bring about a framework that works for them.

During the summer of 2025, I conducted focus groups and interviews with thirty-five young adults, ages 18 to 27, about their experiences navigating Maryland’s workforce after involvement with the criminal justice system. The goal was to identify what’s working, what’s missing, and how to create more equitable opportunities that help young people, regardless of their background, reach their full potential. Five major themes emerged from these conversations, each of which are explored in this report: Barriers to Employment, Stigma, Mental Health, Making it Easier to Find Help, Support Systems, and Mentorship. With directly impacted youth as our guides, we will derive some key policy design lessons from each of the five themes.

If Maryland wants safer communities and a stronger economy, it must make sure that every young person has a real second chance to learn, earn, and thrive. Read on to learn what young people themselves want that second chance to look like.

Key Lessons from the Literature

Getting a job after being locked up is hard. We know this from years of research—but most studies focus on numbers, policies, or what professionals in the field think, without asking young people what the actual experience feels like and what they most need while working through it. This section first reviews what we already know about employment barriers for system-involved young adults, and the following section explains what makes this report different.

Research paints a clear picture that young people coming out of the justice system face enormous obstacles that affect their earning potential for the rest of their lives. According to this Center for American Progress (CAP) report, in their first year after release, young adults who were locked up before age 24 make about $16,180 on average, roughly $10,000 less than their peers who were never arrested. The report also highlights that twelve years later, that gap has grown even wider. While people who were never incarcerated are earning over $60,000, formerly incarcerated people are making about half that amount.

These aren’t just numbers on a page. They represent young people who can’t afford rent, who struggle to support their families, who work twice as hard for half the pay. CAP documented these wage gaps, and the Council of State Governments (CSG) identified the barriers that lead to these gaps: employment barriers such as background check requirements that automatically disqualify applicants, licensing restrictions that close off entire industries, and employer bias that treats a criminal record as a permanent disqualification.

The problem affects different communities in different ways. CAP notes that in 2020, for every 100,000 Black men between 18 and 24, more than 1,800 were locked up. For white men the same age, that number was a fraction of that: 218. This massive disparity in incarceration rates is rooted in structural racism and inequality. The same systemic forces that drive over-policing and harsher sentencing in Black and Brown communities also create steeper barriers to employment after release.

Mental health support came up as especially critical in the Urban Institute’s recent report on community-based workforce support for systems-involved young adults. The psychological weight of incarceration—the trauma experienced before, during, and after confinement, and the depression that follows repeated rejection—all affect a person’s ability to find and keep a job. Programs that focus solely on resume writing or job skills overlook a huge part of what people truly need to succeed.

The Council of State Governments’s research also finds that uniform, one-size-fits-all programs don’t work. Someone searching for stable housing needs different support than someone dealing with addiction. A person working toward their GED requires different assistance than someone who needs help with interview skills. Effective programs adapt to meet people where they are instead of forcing everyone through the same steps.

CAP also highlighted the importance of credible messengers—mentors with lived experience in the justice system. Someone who has been incarcerated and successfully rebuilt their life understands things that a caseworker with a degree, but no personal experience, just can’t grasp. These mentors know what it feels like to walk into an interview wondering whether others can tell you’ve been incarcerated.

The disconnect between policy design and the needs of justice-involved youth are evident in a number of ways. For instance, Nearly 96,000 young adults aged 18 to 24 sat in prison in 2020, but almost none of Maryland’s recent reforms to help younger people applied to them. The Community Assistance for the Release-Eligible program serves young people who are involved with the justice system, but not those among them who are locked up. The program provides them and their family with support and connections to services they need. Similarly, the Detention Diversion Advocacy Program works with young people the courts have allowed to stay in the community while their cases move through the system, giving them supervision and support to help them stay on track.

These are excellent services, and they are part of a policy trend that has decreased juvenile detention rates by 70 percent. But they are of little use to those who are incarcerated or re-entering after serving their time. We need policies that serve this population in its entirety.

The Current Study

As highlighted above, previous research has established that these barriers are both real and significant. This report builds on that foundation by illustrating how these challenges play out in practice, centering the voices of thirty-five young adults in Maryland who have navigated workforce re-entry firsthand.

This study’s participants get specific in ways earlier studies often don’t. They describe online applications that reject them automatically and the impossible logistics of getting to programs when transportation doesn’t line up with schedules. They explain what makes mentorship effective—not just teaching interview skills, but checking in when things get hard and celebrating small wins. They highlight the gap between programs that say they prepare people for work and those that actually do, especially when training leads to industries that won’t hire people with records in the first place.

The difference comes down to perspective. Previous research has shown that the problem is widespread and deeply damaging. This report reveals how those challenges play out in everyday life, and what people facing them say would help make a difference. Real solutions require understanding not only that barriers exist, but how they operate and what it would take to remove them. That understanding comes only from listening to people with lived experience. By centering lived experience, this work complements existing research with the practical knowledge needed to move from documenting problems to implementing truly impactful solutions.

Methodology

This report was developed from conversations with people who lived these challenges firsthand. During the summer of 2025, I conducted six focus groups and three in-depth interviews with thirty-five young adults, ages 18 to 27, who have navigated Maryland’s workforce after involvement with the justice system. Eighty-six percent of participants identified as Black, 57 percent identified as male, and the average income of the group was $25,500 per year. We met both remotely and in-person for hour-long sessions in which participants shared their experiences finding and keeping jobs, as well as with accessing resources and support.

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The questions guiding this research were intentionally designed to center participants’ voices and capture the full experience of their re-entry employment experience, from job searching to maintaining employment to accessing support systems. Rather than focusing solely on barriers, the questions were structured to also surface what worked, what participants wished they had, and what advice they would give to others in similar situations. The focus groups revealed common patterns: recurring barriers across different communities, shared frustrations with systems that promised help but didn’t deliver, and the same desire for genuine opportunity. The individual interviews allowed us to explore these themes more deeply, uncovering not only what happened but how it felt and what might have made a difference.

As someone who has navigated the criminal justice system and experienced firsthand the barriers to employment, I brought both personal understanding and professional commitment to this research. My lived experience helped create a space of trust and safety during these conversations, allowing participants to speak openly about their struggles, frustrations, and hopes—perspectives they might not have shared with a researcher who hadn’t walked a similar path.

What sets this research apart is perspective. Participants didn’t just identify problems: they explained exactly how these barriers operate in their daily life and what would actually help overcome them, uncovering real solutions in the process.

From these conversations, five major themes emerged, all of which underscore the urgency of addressing the systemic issues young people face during workforce re-entry.

Barriers to Employment

Formerly incarcerated emerging adults face overwhelming obstacles when trying to find work, with employer bias and discrimination creating numerous barriers to stable employment.

The barriers start with the job search process. Online applications often ask about criminal history upfront, and checking that box often means the application goes nowhere. Even when participants made it past the initial screening, many described interviews that started positively but shifted the moment their background was mentioned: the tone would shift, questions would get shorter, and they’d never hear back.

The barriers extend beyond the application and interview process themselves. Participants noted that certain industries such as teaching, finance, and government jobs are completely off-limits because of background check requirements or professional licensing restrictions. However, participants also recognized that the path to employment is harder in some industries than others. As one participant noted, “I think it’s usually harder, you know, in fields that require professional license programs, you know, clearance or involved in working with vulnerable populations such as healthcare, government and law enforcement.” This pushes people toward a small pool of jobs that offer them low-wage positions with few benefits and little room for advancement.

As one participant noted, “I think it’s usually harder, you know, in fields that require professional license programs, you know, clearance or involved in working with vulnerable populations such as healthcare, government and law enforcement.”

Inconsistent or poor-quality technological access makes everything harder. Many participants described trying to complete applications on phones that aren’t functioning properly or on borrowed devices—only to lose progress when their data ran out or when they had to return the device. Public library computers often have strict time limits and don’t always work properly. When technical issues arise, such as a password reset email that never comes, a portal that won’t load, or a document that won’t upload, there’s rarely anyone to call for help, and the opportunity slips away.

Oftentimes employers have no idea what formerly incarcerated individuals experience during the transition back into the community. The effort, time, and energy you invest to rebuild yourself isn’t easy. To still be identified first and foremost as someone who made a mistake in their past is a slap to the face. As one participant said, what would help formerly incarcerated individuals feel more prepared is not having to “constantly try to show that you’re good enough at a job and fighting through judgmental behaviors about your background.”

Administrative requirements pile on top of each other in ways participants said felt designed to trip them up. Background checks can take weeks or months, during which participants can’t start work or accept other offers. Some jobs require documents that are difficult to obtain—a driver’s license when you don’t have a car, a Social Security card when you’ve been struggling with unstable housing conditions, or professional references when your last job was years ago. Missing a single deadline or submitting one form incorrectly disqualifies someone entirely, even when they have the skills and motivation to do the job and succeed.

When qualified, motivated people are systematically shut out of employment because of their past, everyone loses. These young adults want to work, support themselves, and build stable lives, yet employer bias and bureaucratic obstacles force many back into situations where legal work feels impossible to obtain. The result is a cycle in which barriers to employment push people toward the exact circumstances that led to their incarceration in the first place. Breaking this cycle requires recognizing that stable employment isn’t just good for individuals, it’s essential for public safety and community well-being. Yet the current system treats a criminal record as a permanent disqualification rather than something people can move beyond.

As one participant put it, “The hardest part isn’t the work itself. It’s getting someone to believe in me enough to give me a chance.”

As one participant put it, ”The hardest part isn’t the work itself. It’s getting someone to believe in me enough to give me a chance.” Employers who dismiss qualified workers because of their past are missing out on some of their most motivated and resilient prospective employees—people who understand the importance of a second chance and are determined not to waste it.

Stigma and Mental Health Challenges

Beyond the formal rejections themselves, participants talked about the weight of the stigma they carry into every interaction, whether into an interview, a job center, or the workplace. As one participant explained, “So, my challenge was or is my anxiety. I sometimes feel like people at work might find out about my past and that makes me overthink everything I do. I also noticed that some co-workers can act differently if they know you’ve been involved with the justice system and that can make the workplace uncomfortable.” Walking into a business to ask about openings means wondering if the person behind the counter can tell where you’ve been. It means rehearsing how to explain a gap in your work history. It means watching someone’s face change when they realize you have a record. Several participants described feeling like they had to be twice as qualified and work twice as hard just to be considered equal to someone without a criminal history.

Many participants discussed how being institutionalized has impacted them throughout their re-entry process. One participant mentioned, ”We are not broken. We’ve just been underserved, misjudged and too often locked out of opportunities before we even got the chance.” They worried about saying the wrong thing in interviews, misreading social cues with coworkers, or not knowing how to handle normal workplace conflicts without overreacting or shutting down. For those who had been incarcerated during developmental years, they missed out on the trial-and-error learning that happens in early work experiences. Lacking a foundational understanding of workplace norms made each interaction feel high-stakes, as if every moment were another potential test they could fail.

The isolation many participants felt made everything harder. Some described cutting themselves off from old friends and social circles to avoid falling back into patterns that led to their incarceration, while struggling to build new connections, especially with coworkers who didn’t share their lived experience. Others felt they couldn’t fully be themselves anywhere, hiding parts of their past from new connections and trying to distance themselves from old ones. This social isolation left them without outlets for stress or people to turn to when things got difficult.

This internalized stigma directly impacts the sustained effort required for successful job searching. As another participant explained, “One of the hardest parts of finding a job after being involved in the justice system is psychological barriers like fear, rejection, which make it hard to stay motivated and engaged in the job search.” The anticipation of rejection became so overwhelming that some participants found themselves avoiding applications altogether, not because they didn’t want to work, but because the emotional cost of another “no” felt unbearable.

The pressure to be perfect is crushing. While other young workers are allowed to make mistakes, learn on the job, and grow into their roles, participants felt they had no margin for error. One slip-up, one bad day, or one conflict with a coworker would confirm every stereotype about people with criminal records and cost them their job. Learning to be a good employee is a part of the normal developmental process for all young adults. Living under that level of pressure, day after day, leads to burnout, which makes sustaining employment nearly impossible regardless of how much someone wants to work.

The Toll on Mental Health

The emotional weight of re-entry and job searching takes a severe toll on emerging adults with criminal records, affecting their mental health, workplace performance, and ability to sustain employment even when job opportunities arise.

Participants described the job search process as emotionally draining. Submitting countless applications and hearing nothing back—or worse, getting close to an offer only to be rejected once the background check comes through—takes a deep mental toll. The cumulative effect of repeated rejection left many feeling worthless, questioning whether they’d ever be seen as more than their worst mistake.

This emotional labor is invisible but draining, leaving people mentally exhausted. As one participant stated plainly, “The hardest part about finding a job after being involved in the justice system is low self-esteem and lack of confidence in your ability as a result of stigmatization.” When society consistently sends the message that you’re unemployable, untrustworthy, and defined by your past, those messages become internalized, creating psychological barriers that persist even when external opportunities arise.

Depression, anxiety, and trauma symptoms were common but rarely addressed. Some mentioned wanting mental health support but not knowing how to access it, not being able to afford it, or fearing that seeking help would somehow be used against them. The untreated mental health challenges became another barrier to maintaining employment, even when participants desperately wanted to succeed.

When emerging adults are carrying unaddressed trauma, facing constant rejection and stigma, and operating with little to no guidance or safety net, we can’t expect them to perform like workers who aren’t carrying those burdens. Mental health support must be integrated into re-entry and employment services, not treated as a separate issue. Employers also need to recognize that hiring someone with a criminal record means offering grace and support as they adjust, not expecting perfection from day one. Most importantly, we must acknowledge that the psychological toll of stigma and re-entry is real, it’s heavy, and it directly impacts employment outcomes. Addressing mental health challenges isn’t “soft policy”: it’s essential infrastructure for long-term employment success.

Making It Easier to Find Help

Emerging adults with criminal records struggle to access the support services and resources designed to help them, even when those resources exist in their communities.

The gap between available resources and people who need them is wide. Participants described a common frustration: they knew resources existed somewhere, but had no clear path to finding them. Participants in one focus group expressed frustration that some people in their communities were unwilling to help them connect to resources or job opportunities. They described feeling that individuals who could have shared information about job training programs, re-entry services, or employment assistance often held back—sometimes out of fear that doing so might hurt their own chances. As a result, by the time someone learned about a program, the application deadline had often passed or all available spots were already filled.

As one participant explained, “You know, upon re-entry, you’re blind. You’re coming out blind. You don’t know what’s going on, what you know, or what’s happening now, what might have been happening, you know, when you went in 10, 15 years before. So, keeping that information updated and relevant upon re-entry is important.” The sense of being disconnected from how systems work, where to go for help, and what has changed in their absence makes the already complex task of finding employment even more overwhelming.

Accessing resources is its own challenge. Many re-entry programs, workforce development centers, and support services operate during standard business hours—the same hours when people are expected to work or attend mandated appointments. Without reliable transportation, a program across town might as well be across the state. One participant mentioned that transportation is an issue for him because he doesn’t have a car yet. He relies on the bus, and if he gets a late shift, the buses will stop running at a certain time and cause him to be late to work. Missing even one appointment can sometimes disqualify someone from a program entirely, but the transportation barriers make consistent attendance nearly impossible for some.

Navigating resources is practically a full-time job on its own. Trying to take advantage of those exact resources once they’ve been found can be more of a challenge. Most participants don’t want the additional help or feel like a burden—they just want to work. The process of actually getting help can feel like a maze with no map. Participants talked about filling out multiple applications for different programs without understanding which ones they qualified for or how long they’d have to wait. Some described being passed between different agencies, sent from one office to another, each time being told they needed to talk to someone else or fill out different paperwork. The confusion gets worse when case workers change or when nobody calls back. People give up not because they don’t want help, but because navigating the system takes energy and time they don’t always have.

Digital barriers compound these challenges. Many resources have moved entirely to online applications, intake forms, scheduling systems, and training modules. Participants without consistent internet access end up trying to complete complex applications on their phones, which doesn’t always work properly.

Even when participants successfully connect with a resource, the help doesn’t always match what they actually need. One participant discussed the importance of “having a better understanding of the environments that folks come from and that folks are not inherently bad people or criminals, but a lot of times it has to do with circumstances. Even me as someone that came from an environment where opportunities are limited and doing the work that I’ve been doing now, I still see that there’s a disconnect sometimes between employers, government agencies, businesses, institutions of really having a clear understanding of what that looks like.” The disconnect between available services and actual barriers means people spend time participating in programs that don’t move them closer to stable employment.

Resources only work if people can actually reach them and use them. Right now, the same young adults who need the most support face the highest barriers to accessing it. This isn’t just inefficient: it’s a waste of public investment in re-entry and workforce programs. When someone is motivated to turn their life around but can’t figure out how to access the help that exists, we’ve failed at a basic level. Simplifying access to resources, meeting people where they are, and creating clearer pathways to support would make existing programs far more effective without requiring massive new investments. The infrastructure is often already there; we just need to make it reachable.

Support Systems and Mentorship

Having someone who genuinely believes in you and provides consistent support increases the chances that emerging adults with criminal records will find and maintain employment.

A participant shared that “I didn’t have an opportunity to get into any mentorship program but I was lucky enough to have a good colleague of mine at my workplace. He was kind of my mentor at work because he was always ready to jump in and help me when I was having difficulty.” These weren’t always formal mentors: sometimes it was a family member, a friend who had been through similar struggles, a case worker who went beyond their job requirements, or someone from a community organization who checked in regularly. What mattered wasn’t the official title but the relationship itself—someone who saw their potential, held them accountable, and refused to let them fall through the cracks.

What mattered wasn’t the official title but the relationship itself—someone who saw their potential, held them accountable, and refused to let them fall through the cracks.

The help these supporters provided was crucial. Mentors taught participants how to present themselves in interviews, how to dress professionally on a tight budget, and how to talk about their relevant work experience without mentioning their criminal history. They helped with things that might seem small but feel enormous when you’re starting from nothing. They would help navigate things such as filling out applications correctly, setting up email accounts, and understanding what employers are really asking for in job postings.

The value of these supportive relationships is not just about what mentors can do, but in who they are and what they understand. As one participant emphasized, “when you are faced with barriers or you’ve had experienced barriers before. I would say a mentor who understands where you are coming from and not just professionally but personally” makes all the difference. This statement reflected a shared understanding that having someone who truly gets the weight of a criminal record, the fear of rejection, and the specific challenges of re-entry makes them more relatable and better able to understand what types of support you may need.

Beyond practical skills, these relationships provided something harder to put into words but equally important: resilience. Participants talked about how repeated rejection chips away at your confidence and how easy it becomes to internalize the message that you’re not worth hiring—that your past defines your future. Having someone who consistently pushed back against that narrative, reminded them of their strengths, celebrated small wins, and showed up even when things got hard made all the difference. For many, that steady support was what kept many participants from giving up entirely.

The connections mentors facilitated opened doors that would have otherwise remained closed. A mentor might know someone hiring who’s willing to give a person with a record a fair shot, or they might introduce participants to people in industries they aspire to enter, helping them build networks they didn’t have access to before. These warm introductions carried weight that applications alone never could.

The absence of support was equally telling. Some shared that the loneliness of the process made them more vulnerable to falling back into old patterns or returning to people and situations they were trying to leave behind. Without someone genuinely invested in their success, the path forward felt uncertain—and the pull backward felt stronger.

Mentorship and support systems are crucial in countering the isolation and repeated rejection that drive many young people away from legal employment. Yet these relationships are often left to chance. Some people get lucky and find supporters; others do not. Formalizing mentorship programs, training supporters to provide both practical guidance and emotional encouragement, and ensuring every young person leaving incarceration has at least one person invested in their success could significantly improve employment outcomes. The human connection matters as much as the job skills, and policy should reflect that reality.

Workforce Readiness and Alternative Pathways

Emerging adults with criminal records need access to practical skills training and alternative pathways to employment that lead to real jobs, not just generic preparation that doesn’t account for the barriers they face.

Four out of six focus groups drew a clear distinction between programs that actually prepared them for work and those that felt like a waste of time. Participants valued hands-on training opportunities that taught practical and concrete skills that they could immediately use, such as welding, security, barbering, construction trades, HVAC, and cosmetology. These programs gave them something tangible to show employers—proof that they had invested in developing relevant, job-ready skills.

Participants valued hands-on training opportunities that taught practical and concrete skills that they could immediately use, such as welding, security, barbering, construction trades, HVAC, and cosmetology.

The challenge is that access to quality training programs is limited and inconsistent. Some participants had heard about apprenticeships or vocational programs but couldn’t get in because of waitlists, eligibility restrictions related to their criminal record, or requirements they couldn’t meet—like the hours the class was offered or needing to pay fees upfront. Others completed training programs only to discover that the certifications they earned didn’t actually improve their employment prospects because many employers in those industries still refused to hire individuals with records. Moreover, some jobs are not only harder to get than others: some of them are all but impossible for those with a record. Certain sectors—such as health care, finance, education, and government—won’t hire from this population, even when candidates are highly qualified. The disconnect between what programs promise and what they deliver leaves many feeling discouraged, having invested time and effort into pathways that ultimately led nowhere.

Beyond technical skills, participants also recognized the need for softer competencies that often go untaught but prove essential in the job search and workplace. As one participant put it, “I think advocacy skills are essential because there is something they don’t teach you about if you need to know how to sell yourself. If you are going to be looking for a lot of jobs, you need to learn emotional intelligence.”

Participants emphasized the importance of programs conducting job placement support or direct connections to employers. They reported some successful experiences with programs that included paid internships or transitional jobs positions, where they could prove themselves while still receiving compensation, support, and guidance. These “bridge” opportunities gave them work experience and references that made the next job easier to get.

The traditional education pathway doesn’t work for everyone, especially those who need income immediately or who struggled in academic settings before incarceration. Participants talked about wanting alternatives to four-year degrees such as shorter certification programs, stackable credentials they could build on over time, and earn-while-you-learn models that didn’t require them to choose between training and survival. Some mentioned feeling pressured toward educational paths that didn’t match their interests or strengths, when what they really wanted was to learn a specific trade and start working.

​​The reality that most participants face is that they often need to work harder and longer to prove themselves before earning the same opportunities others receive more easily. One participant described this dynamic clearly: “they encouraged us to volunteer for work and you know I think it was telling us that we have to prove ourselves much more than others do. So if we know that we’re good at what we do we could volunteer for two months or one month. They see our impact in the organization and then they want to keep us now.” While this approach can lead to employment, it also highlights a troubling inequity that emerging adults with records must often donate their labor and time without pay or guarantee of hire.

Participants who had been incarcerated for years found themselves behind on technology that everyone else took for granted. Without targeted help catching up on these skills, they felt unprepared for jobs that required even basic tech competency. At the same time, some participants were interested in more advanced tech training, but didn’t know how to access these opportunities or whether they’d be viable career pathways given their background.

Skills training only matters if it leads somewhere. Right now, too many programs prepare people for jobs in industries—such as barbering, child care, and health care—that they’ll never be allowed to enter, or teach skills that don’t match what employers actually need. Meanwhile, emerging adults with records are eager to learn and ready to work, but they need pathways designed with their reality in mind. Programs that acknowledge participants’ barriers, connect them directly to employers willing to hire, and provide targeted skills that will open doors, rather than create new obstacles, are the ones that make a real difference.

Investing in workforce readiness means investing in programs that work, not just programs that exist.

Investing in workforce readiness means investing in programs that work, not just programs that exist. It means creating partnerships between training providers and employers, expanding access to paid work experiences, and building alternative pathways that recognize that traditional routes aren’t always possible or desirable. When we give people real skills and real opportunities to use them, employment becomes achievable.

Policy Recommendations

Based on conversations with thirty-five young adults in Maryland who’ve been through the justice system, this report identifies concrete actions the state can take to create real pathways to jobs and stability. The following recommendations address the five key challenges that come up again and again: getting past employer bias, dealing with mental health struggles, actually finding help when you need it, peer mentorship, and getting training that leads to real jobs. Successful re-entry means safer communities, stronger economies, and fair opportunities for everyone.

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Remove the Barriers That Keep People from Getting Jobs

A criminal record often delays or outright obstructs job applications. Lengthy background checks and burdensome requirements, like numerous forms and long approval waits, prevent individuals from starting work or accepting other offers, leading to disqualification even for skilled enabled candidates.

• Strengthen enforcement of Maryland’s existing ban-the-box law, which prohibits employers with fifteen or more employees from asking about criminal history before the first interview. Increase penalties beyond the current $300 per violation and fund active enforcement through the commission on labor and employment.
• Increase awareness and utilization of existing federal Work Opportunity Tax Credit (WOTC) funds, which provides up to $2,400 per hire for formerly incarcerated individuals, and of Maryland’s 50-percent state match (effective through 2028).
• Create a “Second Chance-Friendly” employer certification that recognizes businesses doing the right thing and connects them with qualified candidates.
• Make sure everyone gets a valid ID and other essential documents before they leave prison so they can actually apply for jobs, housing, and government assistance.
• Work with growing industries to create direct paths from training programs to actual jobs in fields that will hire people.
• Stop automatically banning people from entire fields based on their record: instead, look at whether their specific offense actually matters for the specific job.

Make Mental Health Support Part of Job Support, Not a Siloed Resource

Repeated rejections, in addition to anxiety of disclosure, depression, and trauma from incarceration, hinder employment. Mental health support is crucial, not supplementary, for job success.

• Post licensed mental health counselors inside job centers throughout all twenty-four jurisdictions, so people can get help in the same place they look for work. Fund positions through the Maryland Department of Health (MDH) partnerships with workforce development.
• Pay for peer support groups run by people who have lived experience with the justice system.
• Require that all state job training programs conduct mental health check-ins as part of the intake process to ensure that people have access to the help that they need. Expand partnerships with existing agencies, like the Department of Social Work and local behavioral health authorities.
• Offer mental health services at night and on the weekends through Maryland’s 988 behavioral health crisis line and in-person to ensure that people have flexibility to take advantage of the resources available. Offer mobile crisis service units through the Maryland’s 988 Lifeline as well.
• Create employer education programs for businesses hiring formerly incarcerated individuals to provide them with re-entry training, so that they can better understand what re-entry is like and how they can best support their employees.

Simplify Access to Supports and Resources

Finding the right resources can be challenging due to inconvenient program schedules, lack of transportation, confusing application processes, and bureaucratic hurdles that lead many people to give up.

• Enhance the Maryland Workforce Exchange (MWE) online platform so people can find all available resources, training programs, and employment opportunities in their area in one place. Develop an app for improved mobile accessibility.
• Keep support programs open at night and on the weekends to ensure people have access to them without losing their jobs.
• Provide people with bus passes or ride share credits to avoid transportation creating additional financial burdens.
• Create standardized intake across all state re-entry programs, so people only need to complete one comprehensive assessment (through MWE or with a re-entry navigator) instead of separate applications for EARN Maryland, DPSCS programs, American Job Centers, and county services.
• Foster collaboration between state agencies to ensure that case workers know what services individuals are receiving and what they still need.
• Bring services to people through mobile assistance centers and regular sessions at libraries, community centers, and faith-based organizations, building on Anne Arundel County’s successful Re-Entry and Community Collaboration Unit model.

Give Everyone a Mentor Who’s Been There

Receiving support from those who have been formerly incarcerated makes a crucial difference. They understand the unique challenges that you experience while reintegrating back into your community. Having a peer mentor is a vital support and should be guaranteed, not on whether one is lucky enough to find one along the way.

• Create a statewide peer mentorship program that pairs young people navigating re-entry with individuals who have navigated it successfully.
  Make peer mentorship a requirement for every state job program, not just an option.
• Support mentors with training in providing practical job search skills, navigating Maryland systems, connecting to resources, and providing emotional encouragement without creating dependency.
• Create career pathways for credible messengers by hiring successful mentors into paid positions as re-entry navigators, American Job Center staff, or peer specialists within behavioral health and workforce development systems.
• Provide mentor stipends of $15–20 per hour for one-on-one mentoring time, thereby validating their contributions as professional work requiring lived-experience expertise. Fund these stipends through Maryland Department of Labor or Department of Public Safety Community Investment programs.

Make Sure Training Actually Leads to Real Jobs

Many job training programs fail by preparing individuals with records for jobs they can’t get, or by offering prep that doesn’t align with employer needs. We need programs that acknowledge these barriers, accurately prepare individuals, and connect those who are ready to work with supportive employers.

• Conduct annual labor market analysis through the Maryland Department of Labor, identifying which industries and occupations are actually accessible to people with records and which systematically exclude them.
• Expand paid transitional jobs and apprenticeships through existing programs like Anne Arundel’s vocational training (construction trades, culinary arts, welding, HVAC), Baltimore Transitional Jobs Project, Living Classrooms Project SERVE, and Vehicles for Change auto repair training. Increase funding to serve more participants and provide stipends during training.
• Get training programs to partner directly with employers who promise to interview or hire graduates.
• Focus on hands-on training in sectors and professions that are hiring, such as welding, construction, HVAC, security, and barbering.
• Include soft-skills training on workplace communication, conflict resolution, how to properly advocate for yourself, and work etiquette as a part of the curriculum in all workforce programs.
• Cease requiring individuals to work without compensation for extended periods to “prove themselves,” especially when other new hires receive pay during their training.

Maryland can improve re-entry by prioritizing young adults’ voices, and then tailoring policies to meet the needs they themselves express having. These individuals want to contribute and build stable lives, but policy often creates barriers and offers insufficient support. Clearing these paths not only helps them: it also boosts community safety and economic strength. Excluding qualified individuals due to their past harms, or not providing them with the support they need to secure and maintain stable employment, hinders individual well-being, public safety, and community prosperity. Luckily, effective policy design is right there for the taking: all we need to do is ask the hard-working young people our policies are trying to serve.