The most recommended criminal justice books

This book presents contrasting views on the privatization of policing: whether it is mostly a good thing, its downsides, and which aspects of policing lend themselves to privatization. 

Forst argues that a blend of public and private policing can provide a more equitable and efficient delivery of policing services than can public police alone.  

Manning, unfriendly to economics and management efficiency, takes a dramaturgical perspective, concluding that those paradigms are fundamentally at odds with the traditional policing mandate, which confers on the government a monopoly on the use of coercion. 

This anonymously written and entertaining book will tell you what your barrister is really thinking, behind the polite smile and measured language, when they are defending you against a criminal charge. An insider’s view of the UK criminal justice system and its failings. Ever wondered why there are so many miscarriages of justice? Not just those which make the headlines. The writer contrasts the professionalism of the crown court trial, with its judge and jury, with the wild west of the magistrates’ court, in which more than 91% of UK criminal prosecutions begin and end.

The central story of this Pulitzer Prize-winning book is the murder of a Seneca man by two white settlers in the backwoods of Pennsylvania in 1722.

It reads like a thriller, while also revealing profound insights about European colonization in North America during the early 18th century. Ironically, the English authorities were inclined to punish the white settlers severely for the crime in order to appease the Five Nations of the Haudenosaunee. The Native American leaders felt differently, however, preferring to forgive the two men.

“Native peoples,” Eustace writes, “subsume issues of guilt and punishment beneath efforts to redress anguish of victims, acknowledge remorse of perpetrators, and above all reestablish communal bonds.” This is a fascinating account of Indian and European views on justice. 

This book tells of the shocking axe murder of a white woman in rural Virginia in 1895, and the trials of three Black women who were accused of the crime. Given the time and place, you would not expect things to go well for those Black defendants. But as with the murder drama that I describe in my book, many things about this case defy expectations. A surprising group of people, Black and white, worked together to achieve some measure of justice. This book definitely served as a model for me as I was writing my own. And the author’s attention to detail, with every fact carefully documented, truly makes it a marvel of historical research. 

Against the backdrop of a speculative future in which extra shadows have become the alternative to prison and cameras watch our every move, I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself takes a raw, honest look at grief, family, queerness, and how we survive.

Kris has lost her wife Beau and gained an extra shadow—along with a child who also has an extra shadow. As she navigates her new reality, Kris can either sink deeper into her grief, accepting a life of surveillance and oppression for herself and her kid, or she can choose love and hope.

Crane’s approach to storytelling, open and vulnerable and using small fragments and pop quizzes, allowed me deep into Kris’s heart, and I rooted for her as she forged a life against all odds.   

This book is key to understanding the economic, political, and social drivers behind the rise of the incarceration industry, which moved on to promote and expand immigration detention using the same playbook.

Ruth Wilson Gilmore provides a powerful case study of the explosive growth of California’s prison system since the 1980s. The book traces how corporate lobbyists for the prison industry took advantage of local economic downturn and racist narratives to push new laws that massively increased the number of people incarcerated, fueling a prison boom.

While a depressing account, Gilmore leaves the reader with a sense of hope and purpose by recounting the rise of a determined grassroots movement fighting the hungry carceral industry, with lessons that can be transferred to stopping detention expansion.

This is the true first person account of Illinois Governor George Ryan’s courageous and unprecedented decision to suspend the death penalty and empty death row in 2003. He oversaw the state’s last execution, an experience that was seared in his brain. In 2000, he became the first governor (and a Republican at that) to impose a moratorium on the death penalty. I was there as a journalist and I helped him write this powerful memoir.

The story of a horrific miscarriage of justice in rural Canada in 1959. Fourteen-year-old Steven Truscott was charged with the rape and murder of a 12-year-old schoolmate, mostly because he was the last person seen with the victim, riding a bike along a country road. Today, modern crime analysts would look at this case and see immediately that the likely perpetrator was an adult pedophile, not an adolescent boy. But at the time, local law enforcement jumped to the wrong conclusion. Steven was convicted and sentenced to death by hanging, and although the sentence was commuted on humanitarian grounds, he spent ten years in prison. It took more than four decades of work by attorneys, and a few diligent journalists, to clear Steven’s name. This book tells the whole tale.

Corrections in Ink grabbed me from the first paragraph and wouldn’t let go.

It’s a beautifully and fiercely told memoir about Kari Blakinger’s journey from high school figure skater and Cornell college student to drug addition, to prison, and back out into the free world.

Her insights about her time in jail and prison – the conditions of her confinement, interactions with guards, relationships with other prisoners, and the psychological impact of doing time – stick with you, indelibly.

To understand how a majority-Black city became the epicenter for the War on Drugs, destroying Black communities in the process, read this book. Although Washington, DC has long had Black leadership, it remained subject to the whims of majority-White federal authorities and thus to a governing body that has long been anti-Black.

James Forman, Jr. explains in his book, Locking Up Our Own, that the city’s Black leadership fully supported the coercive anti-crime policies implemented beginning in the 1980s. And, while some members of the Black community requested improved schools, drug rehabilitation clinics, and better city services, the federal government responded to these pleas by funding more policing and prisons.

Despite Black leadership, Black police officers, Black judges, and Black teachers, the city remains embedded in a broader context of White supremacy and anti-Blackness that have stymied efforts to support Black people in meaningful ways.

This 1932 work by Bartlett demonstrates many of the dynamics that Loftus would later use to conceptualize eyewitness memory, and that many scholars in law enforcement psychology, including myself, use on an everyday basis.

Bartlett showed that memories are not static representations of reality, admittedly with occasional lapses into forgetting.

Rather, in both the visual and verbal realms, Bartlett demonstrated that memories become abbreviated, operate in the direction of core or gist, and may be completely reconfigured in the direction of personal belief.

This work demonstrates strongly the fragility of human perception, memory, and the thought which derives from these more basic processes, and shows us how difficult it may be to develop vertical accounts of actual crimes in investigative and courtroom settings.

The Black Lives Matter protests of 2020 introduced many people to the idea of abolishing police and prisons. Mariame Kaba might be the most thoughtful abolitionist organizer. This book of essays is both daring and humble, forward-thinking, and rooted in the everyday lives of young Black and Brown people.

Using simple language to convey profound ideas, Kaba asks if the massive expenditures of money and violence in our criminal justice system actually bring satisfaction and healing to those who are victims of crime. She insists that abolition is about not just ending a failed institution for public safety but also about experimenting with how to create better ones that are based in community and democracy. It’s a book that teaches you how to hope.

Charged reveals criminal prosecutors’ massive power and discretion.

And Emily Bazelon makes the stakes and consequences of this massive power and discretion come alive by telling the stories of two people charged with two different crimes by two different prosecutors.

By tracking every step of each case—from arrest to charging to trial to sentencing—she shows the harms the overzealous prosecutors can impose, as well as the mercy prosecutors can show. And she traces the work of progressive prosecutors across the country, offering an alternative path forward. 

Two high-profile activists have edited this anthology, which tackles the problem of how to address harm without incarcerating people.

A lot of people get stuck on abolition because they see it as a tearing down of a system, without understanding what new structures we’d need to build in its place. These brilliant thinkers grapple with what a more humane and accountable process would look like.

I particularly recommend the chapter on the transformative justice approach to ending child sexual abuse.

Prisons were originally built for men (really, white men), not for women. But women were sent to prison, just not in big enough numbers to merit their own facilities until much later. Women were also viewed as a difficult population by reformers and prison administrators alike: Women who committed crimes were deemed so morally repugnant that they could not be rehabilitated, so the routines and purposes of prisons seemed not to apply to them (prisons were originally supposed to rehabilitate their prisoners).

As a small and unprofitable population (because they were assigned unprofitable labor like sewing and laundry), women prisoners were considered especially burdensome. Using the prison histories of three differently situated states, Rafter describes the experiences of incarcerated women and how those experiences were shaped by their unique position and the biases about women criminals.

If you’ve ever wondered about the difference between writing that is spare and writing that is sparse, read this phenomenal verse novel for young adults. Punching The Air is a stunning example of eloquence and a testament to the power of poetry, created by award author Ibi Zoboi and prison reform activist, motivational speaker and member of the exonerated five, Yusef Salaam. As lyrical as it is profound, this is the story of one young man’s incredible strength and resilience; a young man able to preserve his humanity and compassion as he battles against oppression and systemic racism.

The premise of this speculative fiction is simple but wild: in the near future, “criminals” are given an extra shadow that follows them wherever they go, rain or shine. The narrator, a Shadester named Kris, is a new mother whose wife Beau has died in childbirth, earning their daughter her very own automatic shadow assignment.

The story is told in gorgeous experimental prose, a mix of letters to Beau, pop quizzes, shopping lists, and short vignettes that trace the contours of queer love, parenting, shame, and resistance. As the “squish-faced kid” butterflies into a fiery teen, she and Kris find their footing and voice alongside an extended family of fellow misfits.

This is a book for anyone who takes their politics with a dash of kink and a shot of hope and humor.

I thought I knew a decent amount about mass incarceration, but this book showed me just how much I didn’t know. It also deepened my commitment to fighting for anti-racist laws and enhanced my longstanding interest in defending the rights of incarcerated people. The New Jim Crow inspired me to read and write more about criminal justice issues and awakened my interest in prison abolition and restorative justice. I especially admire, and have sought to emulate, Alexander’s passion; it’s always impressive when an author’s justifiable anger spurs her to write a more extensive and rigorous book than someone who cared less would have produced.

Cohen offers a comprehensive sweep of the financial and non-financial consequences of criminal behavior, crime prevention, and society’s response to crime, public and private.  

Crime costs are far-reaching, including medical costs, lost wages, property damage, pain and suffering, and reduced quality of life for victims and the public at large, as well as public expenditures on police, courts, and prisons, and the costs borne by offenders and their families, who often suffer consequences apart from the punishments they receive for committing crime. 

Professor Elizabeth Loftus essentially launched the modern field of eyewitness studies with her experiments on the dynamics of human memory in the eyewitness context, and this book discusses her most important experiments, major studies which reinvigorated this important field.

She demonstrated that memory can be reconfigured in the presence of post-event information, to the degree that a given eyewitness memory may bear no resemblance to the actual events supposedly being remembered.

This is among the most important books in forensic cognitive science, the psychological basis of law enforcement, and the criminal justice system.

Loftus began the studies which culminated in my own book. Her work focused on eyewitness memory, but has implications far beyond that realm in more modern research.

The dynamics she identified operate in realms as disparate as officer-involved shootings, training for the detection of terrorist bombs, and even beliefs in paranormal phenomena and "sightings" of such… show more.