When Arizona’s voter registration deadline passed earlier this month, so with it went my last hope of voting for the first time in almost 20 years.
I cannot vote in Arizona because I have a felony conviction history. In our state, hundreds of thousands of people like me have lost their civil rights because of a felony conviction history, including the right to serve on a jury, hold public office, own or possess a firearm and — most importantly to me — the right to vote.
In many states, voting rights are automatically restored once a person who was incarcerated returns to their community, even if they are on parole or probation. But in Arizona and eight other states, people with a felony conviction history must petition judges to restore their civil rights after a period of time.
In my case, I was required to pay all restitution and fees ordered by the court and to wait at least seven years before filing my petition to restore my rights. This summer, after meeting those statutory requirements, I was finally eligible to file such a petition. I’ve worked hard since returning to my community from more than 10 years in prison to redeem myself and turn my life around.
Since my release from prison, I’ve been afforded incredible opportunities. I’ve taught at the University of Arizona. I served as the director of communications for the Pima County Attorney’s Office, becoming the only law enforcement spokesperson in the U.S. with a felony conviction history. I’ve been able to travel around the world. I even hold a credential issued by the Arizona state legislature that allows me to enter and exit both chambers to lobby lawmakers without going through a metal detector. And I now run a small business that supports nonprofits doing crucial work in their communities.
So, frankly, when my attorney filed my petition this summer to restore my civil rights, I fully expected a successful outcome.
Yet, despite acknowledging that I met all the statutory requirements for a successful petition, a Maricopa County judge rejected it, citing “the nature and circumstances of [my] offenses,” and that I “was convicted in a series of armed robberies,” as his reasons for denying me my right to vote.
Felony disenfranchisement is voter suppression
Voter suppression affects millions across America, particularly those with felony convictions. According to The Sentencing Project, more than 4.4 million Americans are disenfranchised due to felony convictions, with the burden falling disproportionately on communities of color. Black Arizonans, for example, make up only 4 percent of the state’s voting-age population, but they represent a much larger percentage of the disenfranchised population. While this systemic issue disproportionately affects people of color, it impacts anyone with a conviction history — regardless of race — including myself, a middle-aged white male.
To the Maricopa County judge who denied my petition, only my past defines me. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done since my convictions or how hard I’ve worked to redeem myself. To him, my worst moments are all that matter.
The right to vote is fundamental in a democracy. It’s how we participate in shaping our communities and our country. Denying that right to someone who has fulfilled all legal requirements is a blatant attempt to suppress their voice.
In Arizona, people are disenfranchised not because they are a danger to society but because the system deliberately punishes them long after they’ve served their time, using outdated laws and bureaucratic red tape to keep them from reclaiming their right to vote.
Not about safety, but control
No, felony disenfranchisement isn’t about safety. It’s about control. It’s about maintaining a system that keeps people like me — who have served their time and are trying to move forward — from having a say in the decisions that affect our lives and communities.
Bypassing judges and automatically restoring voting rights would empower people with a conviction history to fully participate in our communities again, fostering civic engagement and helping build stronger, more connected neighborhoods.
People like me who simply want our voices to matter aren’t asking for some sort of special treatment. We’re asking for fairness. We’re asking for the rights that should automatically be restored once our legal obligations are met.
Arizona’s current laws around voting rights restoration are designed to suppress the voices of people like me. It’s time to change that.
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