Tough cookies

The director of a PBS documentary about a Girl Scout troop whose moms are behind bars says our obsession with locking up women is harming their kids.

By Sarah Karnasiewicz

Read more: PBS, Arts & Entertainment, Arts & Entertainment Features

March 21, 2006 | Most Girl Scouts earn their badges by crafting tchotchkes and taking hikes. But the girls of Troop 1500, in Austin, Texas, face the kinds of challenges most Scouts could hardly imagine: They all have mothers in prison.

Established in 1998 as part of Girl Scouts Beyond Bars, a nationwide program designed to help families affected by incarceration, Troop 1500 unites daughters with their convicted mothers in monthly meetings at the library of Hilltop Prison, a medium-security facility in Gatesville, Texas, about an hour and a half north of Austin. Under the compassionate eye of their troop leader -- who is also a trained social worker -- the girls are reacquainted with their mothers in hope that, as the psychological scars from their separation begin to heal, the intergenerational cycle of crime will be broken.

On Tuesday night, PBS's Independent Lens presents "Troop 1500," a documentary portrait by Ellen Spiro and Karen Bernstein that delves deep into the lives of five troopers, ranging in age from 8 to 14, following them over one year as they journey inside and outside the prison walls. Woven into the film's narrative are intimate interviews the girls conduct with their mothers. The questions are touching -- "What did you think the first night you were in prison?" "Were you around drugs when you were little?" "Do you think you'll be better when you get out?" -- but the deep ache and affection the mothers feel for their daughters are revealed not so much in their answers as in the expressions on their faces.

Spiro, 41, says that the girls of Troop 1500 are unseen victims of America's prison boom. Statistics estimate that 2.4 million children now have a parent behind bars; women are being incarcerated at higher rates than ever before, and eight out of 10 female prisoners are mothers. Damaged by loss and born into crime, children with a parent in prison are six times more likely to land in the juvenile justice system themselves. But with "Troop 1500," Spiro hopes to raise awareness of the unchecked costs of incarceration -- and to help the public understand that, no matter what their parents' crimes, these children deserve no punishment.

Spiro spoke with Salon by phone from her Austin home.

How did you get involved with the troop?

I knew I wanted to do this film the minute I heard about the project from my friend, Julia Cuba, who was the troop leader. We both moved to Austin in 1998. But honestly, at first I didn't pursue the idea very far because I realized I'd have to deal with both the Texas criminal justice system and the Girl Scouts.

Those do seem like rather monolithic organizations to navigate.

Yes, and I am totally bureaucracy-phobic, so that's why it didn't go anywhere until I started working with Karen Bernstein. We started a little documentary company together called Mobilus Media. At the time, she said to me, "If you could do one documentary right now, what would it be?" And I said, "Feasibility aside?" and she said yes. So I told her about the Girl Scouts and she immediately got on it, though even then it did seem kind of unfeasible at first.

Was there reluctance on the part of justice system and the Girl Scouts?

Well, the first thing that the Girl Scouts told us was that they'd love for us to do a piece, but we couldn't show any faces. [Laughs] So that's a radio piece, but we weren't really interested in doing that! And then ... the other response was a simple, "No, you can't film in jails." So instead we started to get to know the troop, volunteering with them because we just thought the program was so cool. We did media workshops, teaching the girls how to use cameras, and they made their own films that they were able to show at some children's film festivals.

Were those the same girls that eventually ended up in your film?

No, actually. There was some overlap, but the girls who go out to the prison change all the time, depending on whether their moms are still serving time or not. Our film was one year with the troop. The idea was that we could determine our story structure and time frame by stopping filming when the first mother was released. And that turned out to be about a year, as we had expected. Now, another year later, all but one of the mothers are out.

Have the mothers had trouble with the law since they have been released? Or does this story have a happy ending?

Many still do have problems. To the Girl Scouts' credit, they know this program can't solve all of society's problems. Still, they can help a small group of girls through this program. If we'd had the opportunity to go much deeper into the story, which would have meant shooting over a much longer time, you would really see some deeper reverberations into how incarceration without any rehabilitation destroys first the immediate family and then the community.

At least two of the mothers in my film, after their release, went straight back to drugs. One of those mothers had gotten her girls back, and they went and lived with her, so they were very traumatized by the experience. And, you know, the Girl Scouts in Austin ... has a counselor who works on training and transitional services for these mothers. But she's in a rut, too, because nobody wants to hire anyone with a felony. These are smart women, but their skills are in crime, and they strengthen those skills when they go back to jail. Everybody knows this story, but it's true; we as a society have created this monstrosity of a problem that gets passed down from generation to generation and gets worse the more people get locked up and not treated for their problems.

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