Wednesday, March 26, 2003 | 11:27 a.m.
Amalia Boyer, 21, is a well-spoken straight-A college student with a small, pretty face, an air of confidence -- and a sentence of up to 25 years in prison for second-degree murder.
Locked inside the Southern Nevada Women's Correctional Facility in North Las Vegas since she was 17, Boyer is one of 92 women pursuing a college education in prison through the Community College of Southern Nevada.
"I have a family and regardless of the fact that I'm here, somewhere in my heart I want to make them proud," Boyer said. "I do it for them. I do it for me and I do it for knowledge."
Boyer shot and killed her ex-boyfriend's girlfriend in 1998. She will one day be released from prison -- with or without an education.
Boyer hopes to get a college degree, and prison officials prefer she have one too: The more education she has, the less likely she is to offend again, statistics show.
But female prisoners in Nevada don't get the same educational opportunities as men, a result of the state's move to privatize the women's prison. Because of that the only federal aid available for higher education in Nevada's prisons goes to men. Compounding the problem is the reality that women are offered only one degree while most male prisoners have several degree choices.
"There does seem to be some inequity there," said Marta Hall, academic programs administrator for the Nevada Corrections Department.
The gender disparity among inmates seeking higher education opportunities is mostly happenstance.
In 1998 the state allowed Corrections Corp. of America, a private penitentiary agency, to build and run the women's correctional facility in North Las Vegas. The argument was that a private company could run it more efficiently than a public entity.
Lost in the shuffle were funds that state-run facilities receive from the federal government, such as money for the Youthful Offenders Program, a federal grant that pays $860 a year apiece for the post-secondary education of as many as 500 male inmates in Nevada.
Inmates at the Southern Nevada Women's Correction Facility are the state's only female prisoners with access to a college education. Because it is privately run, the facility cannot participate in the Youthful Offenders Program, and most prisoners must pay for their education out of their own pockets.
Aside from the problem of funding, women at the North Las Vegas facility also have fewer program choices than their male counterparts do.
In Northern Nevada male prisoners can receive a two-year degree in almost any field offered by Western Nevada Community College. Beginning in August male inmates in Southern Nevada will receive more two-year degree options as well, Hall said.
Female inmates at the North Las Vegas facility are limited to receiving an associate's degree in general studies.
According to Theo Byrns, CCSN's associate vice president of extended programs, the college does not have the money to expand offerings at the women's facility.
"It is a matter of money," Byrns said. "Money is always an issue and neither the general population nor the majority of our political leaders support state or federal funding for prison education programs."
The state pays $16,000 each year to incarcerate one person. A typical four-year degree costs $8,000 a year or less, including room and board, according to the Western Interstate Commission on Higher Education.
Additional state and federal money to educate prisoners has virtually dried up in recent years. In 1994 President Clinton signed a bill to take away federal grants for prisoners to attend college.
In its 2001 session Nevada's Legislature approved a bill to exclude prisoners from receiving Millennium Scholarships, a $10,000 award that goes to high school graduates with a grade point average of B or higher.
Aside from the absence of federal funding for female inmates seeking degrees beyond high school, the state puts no money aside for higher education programs for prisoners -- male or female.
Politicians such as Assemblyman Bob Beers, R-Las Vegas, don't believe any more money should be spent on prisoners.
"It certainly doesn't make sense to me that the state should be paying for a violator's college education when there are plenty of law-abiding kids that are missing out on higher education funding," Beers said.
There is, however, a strong connection between incarceration and lack of education.
In Nevada about 57 percent of male prisoners and 61 percent of female prisoners do not have a high school degree or equivalent, while a scant 4 percent have a bachelor's degree, Hall said.
And, according to a January 2003 study of the Texas prison system, investing in higher education could be a worthwhile endeavor.
The Texas state university system study reported that inmates released without a degree had a 60 percent recidivism rate. Only 24 percent of those who received their high school diplomas while in prison returned. The recidivism rate fell to 10 percent for inmates with a two-year degree and to 5 percent for inmates with a four-year degree.
Figures for Nevada were unavailable because the state does not track recidivism rates, Hall said.
Anecdotally, the results of CCSN's prison education program are profound. Prison officials say inmates who take courses feel more productive, are more hopeful and have a better sense of self-worth.
"My family always said I never would amount to anything," said Christine Whitely, a 24-year-old who has served three years on a robbery charge. "When I walked (on high school graduation day) I cried because it made me feel good about myself."
Now, Whitely said, she and her best friend, Boyer, work through college courses together.
Inmate April Miller, who is 42 and due to be released from prison next week, said she plans to continue the college courses she began while incarcerated. When she is released, she said she will continue attending the same History 102 courses taught by Candace Kant.
"I know who I am now," Miller said. "I would have less (options without college) because I wouldn't have the confidence without it."
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