ATHENS — The construction crew was waiting quietly when Jonathan Sims arrived, lumber and tools in tow.
Within minutes, the work site stirred to life. Hammers pounded. Saws buzzed. And banter flowed like an open tap – a bit of sarcasm, a few boasts, a whole lot of encouraging shoutouts.
In less than an hour, the workers raised two framed-up walls that lined up perfectly with the platform floor built the previous week. They took a minute to admire their accomplishment, then scattered to gather tools and sweep away debris. With the cleanup work finished, the command came from an observer standing sentry over the open-air corridor: “Hands behind your back. No talking.”
This wasn’t your typical construction site. And these weren’t your typical construction workers.
They were female inmates at the Athens-Clarke County Jail, learning construction skills in a program launched earlier this year called Future Foundations. Hatched by a state representative and nurtured by the sheriff, jail staff and Sims, a volunteer, the program aims to create pathways to gainful employment for inmates in their post-jail lives. That, in turn, could reduce recidivism down the road.
What officials didn’t expect were the returns the program would start paying almost right away: less tension among the inmates, increased interest from them in developing other workplace skills, more responsible behavior from program participants and reports of growing self-esteem. The program’s impact hasn’t been limited to just the women involved in the project; morale also has been boosted among the women who are on a waiting list with hopes of taking part in the training.
That has at least one official thinking that other jails throughout the state, maybe even the country, might benefit by following the Athens blueprint.
“We still don’t know exactly where it’s going,” Athens-Clarke County Sheriff John Q. Williams said. “It’s kind of limitless.”
Building people
Spencer Frye knows how to build things. The Democratic state representative is the longtime executive director for Athens Area Habitat for Humanity.
He juggles pet projects, sometimes for years, and waits for the moment to act. For a long time, he’s been fixated on lending a hand to folks with a criminal background and teaching them the skills to get jobs. At the same time, he’s passionate about creating more affordable housing options.
Then it occurred to him that his two goals might be accomplished with one program. When he ran into the sheriff last fall at a weekend cookout, he took the opportunity to feel him out about an idea.
What if he could take some of the men in the jail — “weed dealers, nonviolent” offenders — and train them in carpentry so they could build structures for use outside the jail?
Williams was open to the proposal. They talked more. Then, he agreed. Sort of.
Credit: Seeger Gray / AJC
Credit: Seeger Gray / AJC
Frye could have some inmates to work with, Williams decided. Female inmates.
Sheriff since 2021, Williams had been looking for a way to get more work activities for the 60 or so women in custody. Of the roughly 475 people incarcerated in Athens, most are men and they do most of the jobs: preparing and serving meals, sweeping floors and doing laundry.
Frye was game. “Heck, yeah, let’s do it,” he told the sheriff.
Roughly 12 inmates were selected in February from a long list of applicants. Frye has a truck and trailer big enough to haul a structure with 160 square feet of living space — a tiny home — so that’s what they set out to build. He usually spends every other Saturday at the jail, and the group typically works for eight hours.
This is where Sims comes into the picture.
A licensed contractor with 35 years of experience, he plays a pivotal role. His wife is Keith Sims, a sheriff’s office media analyst. So, Jonathan Sims has become an unofficial part of the jail team, and during youth events and other community activities hosted at the jail, he often cooks hot dogs and hamburgers.
Sims figured he could make Saturdays run more smoothly for Frye if he provided weekly training sessions for the inmates. He started by showing the women how to use different types of hammers and read a tape measure. Then he taught them the importance of safety vests, goggles and hard hats.
“We went from there to building a house,” Sims said of the progression. So far, they’ve built birdhouses, a playhouse for kids and a tiny home that’s being used as an office for Habitat for Humanity. It’s still not clear how other tiny homes constructed can be used.
Frye and Sims complement each other as teachers.
Frye exudes energy. He’s animated, often uses analogies, talks big picture and likes to get his hands dirty. Sims is organized, loves the fundamentals. Properly driving a single nail matters — because it’s all the small aspects, repeated correctly, that create the large, he explained. He critiques with quips and laughs and steps in to help only after a second or third attempt comes up short.
Jail staff, including Lt. Gary Davenport, make the program possible by working extra time on Saturdays. Davenport has worked at the jail for 15 years. But before that, he had a career as an electrician, so he knows his way around a job site, too. He occasionally chirps advice to the inmate workers.
“I don’t like waste, and there’s a lot of talent sitting in this jail,” Davenport said. “What I want for the people in here is something productive for when they get out.”
Angela Nichole Mosley was an original member of the program. She had no previous construction experience, but by late July, she was leading the crew as a mentor to new members. One scorching hot Saturday in July, Mosley was nearby when a first-timer looked puzzled after Frye asked her to charge batteries for some power tools. Mosley put her hand on the newbie’s shoulder and said she’d show her how it’s done.
“This program is not as much about building things as it is about building people,” Mosley said.
Carving a path
Mosley was raised in Forsyth County, played sports growing up and says she came from a loving family.
She had a hard time coping with grief when both her parents and two grandparents died over a short period of time. She turned to drugs, which led to multiple incarcerations, including in Clayton and Hall counties. Living in jail or prison isn’t easy, she said, but neither is being released from custody.
“Whenever I get out, colors are too bright, grass is too green, cars are too fast,” she said. “I usually lie in the fetal position and cry for a couple weeks. When you don’t speak about it, it becomes a dirty secret and you go back to using drugs.”
Because of the Future Foundations program, Mosley has a plan for the next time she’s released. She wants to be a roofer and has taken Spanish courses provided to inmates to increase her ability to communicate on diverse job sites. She does not have a firm release date — it could be years from now. Earlier this month, she was transferred from Athens-Clarke County Jail to the Hall County Jail, so she’s no longer in the Future Foundations program. But she recently wrote Frye a letter outlining her aspirations.
“I hope in the future you can look at me and see the product of all your hard work,” Mosley wrote.
Credit: Seeger Gray / AJC
Credit: Seeger Gray / AJC
Selina Watts has carved out the path.
She, too, was an original participant in the program. Released this summer, she now works for Frye at a Habitat for Humanity thrift shop. She quickly tears up when talking about the gratitude she feels being entrusted with tasks like handling cash. Others believed in her, she said, and now she believes more in herself. She ended up in custody because of drug use but thinks that this time she’ll be able to remain out of jail.
Though she currently runs a cash register, she wants to use her construction skills once conditions of her release make it easier for her to travel to different job sites.
“Before, I’d find every reason not to have a job,” she said. “Now, I can’t wait to get to work.”
Georgia ranks in the top third of the country with an 11.3% share of female employees in the construction field, U.S. Department of Labor statistics show.
The percentage has increased in recent years, a trend Sims hopes will continue. He said he’d rather have the women he works with inside the jail than most of the crews he sees outside in the field.
“They’re much more interested in what they’re doing,” he said.
At a conference for law enforcement personnel earlier this month in Athens, Sheriff Williams urged people from agencies across the state to consider launching similar initiatives. He described the benefits his jail has seen.
“I think we caught lightning in a bottle,” Williams said, “but we’re also creating a blueprint for even more.”
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