On a Saturday morning, Chloe M. went into her job, hoping to continue working her way up in the company. Instead she was told that a background check had come in which made her unqualified for promotion to management and, in fact, she was going to be terminated. Chloe’s pastor encouraged her and told her about the Clinic’s Expungement Help Desk.

I didn’t realize what an obstacle a criminal record really is. It’s hard to make any forward progress. It’s a wonder they don’t give up. Working here, you become a more compassionate person, because you’re exposed to peoples’ stories that you never would have known anything about.

Makenzie Winger was spending Valentine’s Day 2019 with her then fiancé when she received an email from her department head at Taylor University. The email described something called a Justice Fellowship at a nonprofit legal organization in Indianapolis. “I stopped everything we were doing to read my fiancé the job description,” Makenzie recalls. “It was an opportunity to continue to learn more about justice issues, to step into the legal field for the first time, and to do work that felt meaningful. I also wouldn’t have to worry about finding housing. It just sounded like the perfect job for this phase of my life.”

Several times a day I find myself saying, “We’ve all made mistakes; it just looks a little different from one person to another and doesn’t always become public knowledge.” So many people are burdened by poor decisions from years ago, decisions often driven by addiction, poor examples, generational poverty, or being “young and dumb.” They enter the doors for our Expungement Help Desk in the basement of the City County Building expecting to be judged yet again, to be told they don’t qualify for expungement, or to be told that, if they do, it’s going to be costly to make it happen. It is such a joy to dispel the misconception that getting an expungement is too good to be true. Oftentimes, I even get to help these visitors make the “second chance” espoused by the statute become a reality. That reality means a better job, housing in a safer neighborhood, professional certification, going on a field trip with their children, and so much more.

I remember the look on his face. It was a mixture of shame, sadness, and regret. His eyes twitched as he told me his story. He looked up and down, right and left. But he wouldn’t meet my eyes.