It will be 13 years in April since Jerome Arnold last used drugs after becoming addicted to crack cocaine when he was 25 years old.
The addiction sent his life into turmoil, and for years, he was in and out of jail and prison.
The 63-year-old St. Louis city native is now a case manager for the Release to Rent veterans program at the Criminal Justice Ministry in Lafayette Square. He’s been in the position off and on for about six years, working with clients who are homeless veterans — many who have just spent at least 10 years in state prison.
“Those who suffer from mental illness and substance abuse, those (cases) are a little more complex because sometimes a client doesn't want the help,” Arnold said. “All I can do is sit back and keep interjecting little by little.
“I struggle just like my clients do. But I let them know, 'What you're going through, you're not by yourself.’”
The largely grant-funded group has served those getting reacclimated back into Missouri society from prison since 1979 and currently receives about $2.4 million in revenue annually.
It helps hundreds of formerly incarcerated individuals get back on their feet after prison by setting them up in a paid apartment for six months to a year and providing various items, including hygiene products, bus passes and groceries. The group accepts referrals from probation and parole departments across Missouri but only in the state.
Arnold first learned about the ministry in 2012 but said it wasn't sure if he was a good fit as a client because he was still struggling with drug abuse. He was charged with second-degree robbery in 1991 and had faced up to 20 years on drug manufacturing charges in the early 2000s. In that case, he ultimately opted for a bench trial and received five years' probation.
He said skepticism about receiving help from the ministry almost hindered him from taking a chance.
“I don’t trust people because people will tell you they’ll help you out, and they don’t follow through. …They told me, ‘If you go to treatment and you’re successful, we’ll get you an apartment when you come out.’ I did that, 30 days clean, and when I came out, I did have an apartment.”
He said he likes to meet his clients where they are, understanding firsthand the difficulty of landing back on your feet after prison. Arnold said he conducts home visits once a week and speaks on the phone with his clients every day.
“Each client is an individual, and I like to be in the streets because I can see how you act at home or I might ride around and see you sitting on your porch and you might be drinking a beer. … I’m not a suit and tie manager; I don’t sugarcoat nothing. It works for me. These guys are veterans, some of them are inmates, most of them are homeless, so being gentle and polite don’t always work.”
The Missouri Department of Corrections reported in fiscal 2023 that the recidivism rate in the state had decreased by at least 10% since fiscal 2014. The Criminal Justice Ministry’s recidivism rate was just below 10% percent in fiscal 2023, based on an external evaluation by Beth Huebner, a Criminology and Criminal Justice professor at the University of Missouri-St. Louis.
CJM leaders said those who reoffended were locked up again, mostly due to nonviolent offenses.
A fresh start
After leaving prison, clients are picked up at a bus station and brought to the CJM office before being assigned a caseworker. Then, they’re set up in an apartment and provided essential hygiene supplies and clothing and are taken grocery shopping to get them started.
In addition to the Release to Rent program for veterans, the organization has two other Release to Rent programs, one for women and another for men.
Sarah Topal, executive director of the ministry, said they are eligible to take over their lease at the end of a one-year transitional period. Some choose to live with family or other relatives or friends. She said it's called “Tipping,” or transitioning in place.
“We serve anyone regardless of their criminal history,” Topal said. She said they also provide items such as furniture, bedding and pots and pans.
Paul Faust, community outreach coordinator at CJM, stood in a back room inside the organization’s main office building in Lafayette Square filled with supplies. He picked up one of several black backpacks that will be provided to the reentry clients containing hygiene products, socks, underwear and a bus pass.
Volunteers donated the packs, he said, and organized additional clothing packs as requested for inmates leaving prison who lack outside support. The goal is to ensure they have a new set of clothes to wear after getting out.
“Volunteers pay for all this,” Faust said. “And now this is going to be shipped to the institution (prisons). So it’s all about restoring dignity.”
Moving forward
One month before taking a job as the nonprofit’s executive director last May, Topal lost her 18-year-old son Kaden to gun violence after trying to get him help for drug abuse.
He struggled for years with addiction and spent time in the Madison County juvenile justice system and, months before his death, the St. Louis County Jail. Topal says her son’s white privilege afforded him opportunities for freedom that others would have likely not experienced.
“I heavily advocated for him to be detained to give him a period of reprieve from the road he was going down. He ended up dying as a result of that,” Topal said. “As a leader, I … understand the inequities in the system on both sides and I think that most parents in my position would have been grateful.”
She said the loss has forever left a hole in her heart but has also fueled her re-entry work at the CJM. The organization currently owns five buildings in St. Louis with 52 apartment units for those getting out of prison — one building is specifically for women. Four of the properties are located throughout south city.
“It’s not about me, it’s about service,” Topal said. She said the group is actively seeking more landlords to partner with to increase the availability of housing options for clients.
The ministry serves over 600 people annually through its housing and resource programs. Arnold said he often encourages his clients to be like an eagle and not like chickens.
Eagles fly high and move forward, while chickens stay on the ground and pick at their feces all day, he said.
“I have developed close friendships with former clients who came in just like me,” Arnold said. “Nobody thought they would amount to anything, and these guys have businesses, they’ve done well, and they’re still clean, seven to eight years later. They’re married, family men, and they have their children back in their lives.
“If my client does well, I do well, because that means that I did what I was supposed to do.”
