08/08/2026
Over the years, I’ve worked with people who have made serious mistakes. Some deserved the legal consequences they received. But I’ve also watched people spend the next decade doing everything society asked of them: completing probation, staying sober, finding stable housing, obtaining an education, rebuilding relationships, working hard to become better people, only to discover that one checkbox on an application still outweighs ten years of growth.
As a therapist, that raises an important question: If we believe people are capable of change, are our systems allowing that change to matter?
Psychology has long demonstrated that people are not static. We know the brain changes. We know behavior changes. We know insight, maturity, accountability, and life experience can fundamentally reshape who someone becomes. In fact, helping people change is the foundation of mental health treatment.
Every day, therapists work with individuals to challenge destructive patterns, develop healthier coping strategies, repair relationships, and build lives that look nothing like their past. If we truly believe people cannot change, then much of what we do in mental health loses its purpose.
Of course, not everyone changes. Some people continue to make harmful decisions. Some continue to offend. Public safety must always remain a priority. But it is equally true that many people do. They accept responsibility, learn from their mistakes, and spend years proving through their actions rather than their words, that they are no longer the person they once were.
Shouldn’t our systems have room to recognize that? Perhaps the better question isn’t whether people deserve a second chance. Perhaps it’s whether we genuinely believe transformation is possible.
Because if someone has accepted responsibility, fulfilled every legal obligation, and spent years demonstrating growth, yet continues to be defined by the worst decision they ever made, we have to ask ourselves what message we’re really sending.
Are we encouraging rehabilitation, or are we quietly telling people that no matter how much they change, their past will always matter more than their present?
If someone has genuinely changed, accepted responsibility, and paid the legal consequences for their actions, at what point do we allow them to become more than the worst decision they ever made?
I don’t pretend to have the perfect answer. But I think it’s a question worth asking. If our goal is to encourage people to become productive, responsible members of society, we have to ask whether we are creating pathways for redemption or barriers that make redemption nearly impossible.
-J. Donohue