Amanda Smith
Discussion: Evaluating Use of Literature and Problem Statement
Researchers use scholarly literature for various purposes in their work, such as, but not limited to, establishing the need for and importance of their study or describing a theory. The problem statement is typically tied to the literature, and for this reason, these two components of research are presented together this week; this connection among research components will be a recurring theme throughout this course.
For this Discussion, you will evaluate the use of literature and problem statements in assigned journal articles in your discipline to understand what it means for a research study to be justified, grounded, and original. You will use the Use of Literature Checklist, the Problem Statement Checklist, and the Litmus Test as guides for your post (Attached).
Discussion
With these thoughts in mind, refer to the Journal Articles document for your assigned articles for this Discussion. Article B Ibarra (Attached)
Post a critique of the research study in which you:
Evaluate the authors use of literature.
Evaluate the research problem.
Explain what it means for a research study to be justified and grounded in the literature; then, explain what it means for a problem to be original.
The Use of Literature Checklist and Problem Statement Checklist (attached) serve as guides for your evaluations. Please do not respond to the checklists in a Yes/No format in writing your Discussion post.
Be sure to support your Main Issue Post and Response Post with reference to the weeks Learning Resources and other scholarly evidence in APA Style.
400 words Surveillance as casework: supervising domestic violence
defendants with GPS technology
Peter R. Ibarra & Oren M. Gur & Edna Erez
Published online: 27 September 2014
# Springer Science+Business Media Dordrecht 2014
Abstract Academic discussion about surveillance tends to emphasize its proliferation,
ubiquity, and impact on society, while neglecting to consider the continued relevance of
traditional approaches to human supervision, an oversight insofar as surveillance is
organized through practices embedded in justice system-based casework. Drawing
from a multi-site study of pretrial personnel utilizing global positioning system
(GPS) technology for domestic violence cases in the U.S., a comparative analysis is
offered to illustrate how the handling of a problem population varies across commu-
nity corrections agencies as they implement surveillance regimes. In particular, the study
finds that surveillance styles reflect whether an agency is directed toward crime control
and risk management, providing treatment and assistance, or observing due process.
These programmatic thrusts are expressed in how officers interact with offenders as
cases, both directly and remotely. In contrast to the ambient monitoring of environments
and populations through data-banking technologies, the interactive surveillance styles
described in the present study highlight the role of casework in surveillance.
Introduction
Surveillance has become pervasive as information systems that document peoples
quotidian activities have multiplied [49]. These systems collect steadily increasing
streams of personal information that are stored in unevenly regulated, coordinated,
and accessible data banks, to be tapped into on an as needed basis by market- and
government-based actors.1 The assembly and retrieval of these digitized data reflect the
institutionalization of surveillance as an ordinary and ubiquitous feature of
Crime Law Soc Change (2014) 62:417444
DOI 10.1007/s10611-014-9536-4
1These data banks need not be remotely located; for example, smart phones provide veritable troves of
banked data (cf. [69]).
P. R. Ibarra (*) :O. M. Gur : E. Erez
Department of Criminology, Law, and Justice, University of Illinois at Chicago, 1007 W. Harrison St.,
BSB 4022 (M/C 141), Chicago, IL 60607, USA
e-mail: [emailprotected]
O. M. Gur
Department of Criminal Justice, Pennsylvania State University, Abington College, Abington,
PA 19001, USA
contemporary life [28]. Such ambient surveillance entails the kind of data collection
and information management that occurs routinely, silently, and unobtrusively when,
for example, visiting web sites, swiping ID cards upon entry to a secured facility,
dialing telephone numbers, having ones image captured on closed-circuit television
(CCTV), carrying credit cards containing radio frequency (RF) ID tags, or using social
media.2
A number of academic disciplines consider surveillance an object of inquiry; of
interest to criminology is the penetration of surveillance technologies across all phases
of the criminal justice process. These developments reflect broader trends in the growth
of the surveillant assemblage [36], whereby surveillance has become increasingly
democratized3 and embedded, i.e., rhizomatic ([36], p. 614, citing [18]). Key to
understanding surveillance in United States criminal justice contexts is the idea of the
case, for the fact that a person is a case means that surveillance becomes interactive,
shaped less by its ubiquitous reach and more by the focused processes that organize, for
example, supervision or investigation. Whereas ambient surveillance is faceless, dif-
fuse, and operates impersonally, interactive surveillance is personified, focused, and
pursued in response to a persons status, identity, or actions.4 Interactive surveillance is
purposeful and directed, characterized by unique practicesoften including the use of
face-to-face interactionthat yield information not necessarily digitized or searchable
on demand or by algorithm. Interactive surveillance entails, minimally, interaction
between a surveilling agent and an object of surveillance: a case. Rather than consti-
tuting a bifurcated pairing, however, ambient and interactive surveillance can function
symbiotically: exemplifying function creep ([17], passim) [48] (cf. [87]), i.e., the
repurposing of technological tools and systems, innovations adopted by justice institu-
tions appropriate extant surveillant data streams while also contributing to their growth.
Although electronic monitoring (EM) is a common basis for the surveillance of
criminal justice populations in the U.S., scholarly investigation has focused on evalu-
ating EMs impact on various outcomes (e.g., desistance, compliance, recidivism) (e.g.,
[68, 64, 2]), rather than documenting the surveillance processes it engenders.5 The
purpose of the current study is to examine styles of surveillance among community
corrections officers using EM, employing a specific and comparative analysis (cf. [30])
2 Ambient surveillance emerges from the rise of ubiquitous computing and ambient intelligence (cf. [83]),
which essentially document in digitized form an increasing range of human traces (footprints) and actions
(current location, vehicular movements, economic transactions, interpersonal contacts, online behavior, etc.)
(cf. [70, 81]). Ambient surveillance is distinguished from mass surveillance in that the latter is directed by the
state, whereas the former encompasses both state- and market-based forms of surveillance.
3 Surveillance has become democratized as people increasingly have their lives and routine activities recorded,
documented, tracked, and rendered into searchable databases, including socially powerful individuals who
historically could use their status to shield themselves from bureaucratic organizations that might seek to
monitor them (see [36], p. 618).
4 Because it works silently, ambient surveillance can be ignored, forgotten, and taken-for-granted, or
become the subject of folklore, rumor, and speculation, and hence the object of collective action, such as
when users of a smart phone application organize to protest changes in a social media companys privacy
policies [43]. By contrast, interactive surveillance is difficult to mobilize against politically insofar as those
subject to it feel restricted in expressing their rights (e.g., to liberty, privacy), are unaware of their status as a
case, or are deemed unsympathetic figures to rally around. Nevertheless, on an individual level, it is evident
that resistance and sabotage may be practiced by those subjected to electronic surveillance.
5 There has also been extensive work examining how offenders experience the condition of being electron-
ically monitored (e.g., [67, 38, 41, 23]).
418 P.R. Ibarra et al.
of how the tools of surveillance are integrated into local agendas and routines,
variegated traditions and ideologies, and legal and extralegal considerations associated
with social control and rule enforcement. Specifically, we examine how a second
generation [52] EM technologyGPSis implemented through interactive surveil-
lance with domestic violence (DV) defendants in three U.S. jurisdictions. GPS tracking
is an instructive technology for conceptualizing the distinction between interactive and
ambient surveillance, for it targets a specific groupa set of casesrather than a
general population, and yet its constantly-banked data streams mimic the behavior of
ambient forms.
The capabilities of technologies, including GPS tracking, do not describe or explain
the practice of surveillance, either in general or as conducted by the criminal justice
system (cf. [51]). Discussions of the surveillance society [50] often posit a
unidimensionality to technology-based surveillance that is not supported empirically.
According to David Lyon:
Surveillance today is often thought of only in technological terms. Technologies
are indeed crucially important, but two important things must also be remem-
bered: One, human surveillance of a direct kind, unmediated by technology, still
occurs and is often yoked with more technological kinds. Two, technological
systems themselves are neither the cause nor the sum of what surveillance is
today. We cannot simply read surveillance consequences off the capacities of
each new system ([50], p. 6).
Surveillance technology acquires its effects from how it is used, but surveillance
and technology are not coterminous. It is crucial to investigate how technologies are
incorporated into the practice of surveillance, and not assume that any given technology
is implemented identically by surveilling authorities or with the heterogeneous popu-
lations brought under their purview. Paterson and Clamp [66] correctly note:
It is essential to understand surveillance technologies as social and policy con-
structs where the function of the technology is determined by the environment in
which it is utilized and experienced by the public. Technology manifests itself in
different forms in different socio-political and cultural contexts. Therefore, new
surveillance programmes must be understood as products of their environment;
they are creations of the criminal justice agencies which have developed them and
the offenders/victims who interact with the technology ([66], p. 53-4).
As new forms of technology appear, they are constructed as useful in responding
to problems [77, 42] framed through local, instead of, or in addition to, national
lenses, and incorporated into pre-existing justice infrastructures. In the current case, EM
technology was adopted by courts pretrial services programs as a way of ameliorating
a problem that prior means had been unable to effectively address: keeping DV
victims safe from their alleged abusers pending adjudication and disposition of a
criminal case. Yet, as illustrated below, surveillance technology has been implemented
dissimilarly across jurisdictions.
We argue for a view of surveillance as casework (cf. [75]) embedded within
interactive processes emerging from defendant-focused regimes of social control. The
Surveillance as casework: supervising domestic violence 419
ends of social control shape the styles of casework, and hence how surveillance is
mobilized and experienced. Accordingly, the means and ends of social control should
be identified in interpreting the organization and practice of surveillance. Characteristic
styles of agency practice vary, highlighting the importance of describing and analyzing
surveillant technologies in context. GPS tracking is not simply a mechanism for
enforcing curfew and mobility restrictions on DV defendants; rather, its compliance-
focused agenda is incorporated into the practice of interactive surveillance by pretrial
officers who use GPS in accordance with the traditions in which they have been trained,
as favored by the agencies where they are employed. These traditions animate and
legitimize the varying approaches to, or styles of, interactive surveillance that are
observed in action. Because these styles reflect varying methods and philosophies of
community corrections, we first address how supervision has been conceptualized in
the literature and review prior research on supervision utilizing EM technology, before
examining interactive surveillance in three U.S.-based GPS for DV pretrial programs.
Literature review
Supervision styles and penological discourse
EM has been increasingly incorporated as a tool for managing the risks posed by
offenders on conditional release, including those accused of DV. The use of partially
incapacitative ([35], p. 48) conditional release during the pretrial period in the U.S.
entails the creation of supervision programs structured as probation-like alternatives
([35], p. 12), fashioned on a casework model (e.g., [13], p. 31).6 The nature of pretrial
supervision can be understood by drawing from concepts developed in the probation
and parole literature, and by reference to currents in penological discourse that direct or
comment on the handling of offenders by the justice system.
Discussions of supervision style in the context of probation and parole have
historically centered on the extent to which an officer or agency is oriented toward
law enforcement or rehabilitation. For Glaser [31], parole supervision entails some
mix of control and assistance, the former including surveillance7 of the offender, and
the latter including practices traditionally viewed as forms of casework [55] (cf. [4]).
Similarly, for Klockars, probation officer styles of supervision are defined by whether
they are oriented toward casework; in the typology he offers, only synthetic officers
balance the law enforcer and therapeutic agent orientations ([46], p. 550-1) (cf. [57,
76]), albeit not without difficulty. Accounting for the importance of agency culture,
Clear and Latessa demonstrate how a given agencys organizational philosophy
influences officers handling of ill-fitting expectations ([11], p. 452)stemming
from role conflict associated with the treatment versus control distinction (cf. [1])
whereby officers use of discretion reflects agency imperatives, rather than individual
preferences.
6 These pretrial supervision programs emerged out of the second generation bail reform movements of the
1970s and 1980s ([34], p. 1556-8).
7 Glaser defines surveillance as any act involving direct or indirect observation of the parolees activities to
ascertain that they conform to supervision rules ([31], p. 432).
420 P.R. Ibarra et al.
Drawing from and synthesizing the analyses of such writers as Foucault, Feeley and
Simon, Garland, and Deleuze, Nellis [58] has identified three inter-connected sets of
[penological] discourses ([15], p. 79): managerial-surveillant, punitive-repressive,
and humanistic-rehabilitative ([58], p. 178). These discourses correspond with and
ground distinctive practices and emphasessome influential at certain points while
others fall out of favorand hence are pertinent to understanding approaches observed
at criminal justice agencies. The broad adoption of EM coalesced with the ascendance
of managerial-surveillant discourse, the new penology (cf. [26, 9]), and the redirec-
tion of community corrections toward reducing dangers that offender populations pose
for the public, rather than their rehabilitation [7] (cf. [12]). Investigating the influence of
actuarialism, Lynchs [48] ethnographic study describes how, despite efforts by
regional and statewide managers (p. 857) in California to organize parole practice
in ways consonant with new penological emphases (e.g., handling of offenders in terms
of their risk classification and case plan), officers approach supervision through
traditional investigative techniques, conversational stratagems, and intuition gained
during face-to-face interaction to determine who merits treatment as dangerous.
Robinson [71] found that officers in England and Wales are reluctant to forgo the
traditional relational basis of probation practice (p. 14), viewing risk rationalization
schemes as contrary to the culture in which they were trained. Lynch, Robinson, and
others (e.g., [7]) highlight the continued importance of officers front-line practices and
professional training and tradition, notwithstanding the penological discourses that may
be promoted by others standing at some remove (e.g., management, policy makers, the
public, social theorists).
Surveillance with electronic monitoring
Initially, upon EMs emergence, scholars speculated about its implications for probation
[27, 44, 25, 14] and its welfarist traditions (cf. [80])at times with ominous undertones
(see [27]). Thus, Erwin [25] suggested that EM might lead to a fascination with the
technologies of enforcement ([25], p. 66), supplanting probations traditional focus on
constructively changing individuals. The complex analysis required of the treatment
model ([14], p. 408)reliant on higher-order skills (interpersonal communications,
personality assessment, diagnostic protocols, crisis intervention, substance abuse assess-
ment and referral) (p. 408)would be displaced, cementing the secondary position
of the rehabilitative model in relation to control ([14], p. 407, citing [10]). The panacea
of EM ([14], p. 399; cf. [52]) threatened to promote supervision styles more reliant on
the mechanical collection of factsas emphasized by EMs capacity to regularly bank
and afford access to quantified information about clientsand less on casework and
human interaction. EM promised to reduce anxiety and guesswork endemic to the
casework approach ([14], p. 408) in favor of a surveillance-based regimewhose officers
have responsibilities akin to those of a clerk/technician ([14], p. 408).
While studies of how officers monitor offenders with EM have been scant, research
from England and Wales [39, 45, 65] and the U.S. [40] highlights the importance of the
institutional context within which EM-based surveillance is practiced. EM in England
and Wales is predominantly administered by a mixture of privately contracted moni-
toring companies (e.g., G4S, Serco), sometimes with the involvement of state-
sponsored justice agencies (i.e., the English Probation Service) (cf. [32]); in the U.S.
Surveillance as casework: supervising domestic violence 421
it is typically8 embedded within traditional criminal justice professions operating at
local, state, and federal levels. Probation staff and sheriffs deputies are justice profes-
sionals, rather than technicians of a private company: the former are fully nested within
agencies functioning under state mandate (e.g., courts, police departments, and com-
munity corrections), providing sources of training, tradition, career advancement, job
security, fraternity, professional identity, and infrastructure (e.g., sworn law enforce-
ment as professional peers or colleagues) not readily available to the latter, i.e., those
contracted as private-sector employees (see [39], p. 62).9
The England and Wales-based research examines how privately contracted field
monitoring officers (FMOs)10 surveil offenders while demonstrating an abiding concern
for the bottom line. The work undertaken by [FMOs] in principal is the same
nationwide ([45], p. 582; cf. [32]): They are focused on observing the terms of strict
contracts ([39], p. 62) that specify performance targets ([65], p. 317), while facing
financial consequences ([39], p. 62) if they fail to meet them. Aside from verifying
curfew compliance, 11 FMOs trouble-shoot technical problems, relay information to
inductees, handle installation and de-installation procedures, and conduct tamper inves-
tigations ([45], p. 583; [39, 65]). Companies can be penalized if officers do not respond
to alerts quickly enough, respond to toomany curfew violations, or take too long to install
equipment or submit documentation.12 Given these benchmarks, offenders do not receive
a long-term focus or forms of support from officers ([65], p. 321). Rather, FMOs
administer punishments imposed by the courts in a role organizationally defined as
being about control rather than care ([39], p. 60). Unlike a traditional criminal
justice organization, which models approaches its employees should adopt, none of the
officers working credos [39] (cf. [73])encompassed through contrastive terms that
mirror somewhat the styles of probation/parole supervision documented in the litera-
tureappear to be endorsed by the private company. Credos seem to function as
individual preferences, perhaps because much of the working life [39] of FMOs is
colored by management of personal fear and risk,13 rendering the organizations imper-
atives less consequential while raising questions about the infrastructure and support
provided to FMOs.
8 Approximately ten states use private probation (for-profit and non-profit) to supplement state-run probation
services, including Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Missouri, Tennessee, and Utah. These agencies are
entrusted with supervising misdemeanants and low-risk offenders [74]. Stillman [78] offers an in-depth
journalistic account of the private probation industry in the U.S.
9 See the article by Nellis (this issue) [61] for a historical account of the relationship between EM and
probation in England and Wales.
10 Hucklesbys sample of privately-contracted FMOs (N=20) had worked in retail, office, and factory settings,
in the security industry, as cable television installers, or served in the armed forces ([39], p. 63). Patersons [65]
sample includes a mix of privately contracted FMOs, as well as staff employed in state-based agencies (e.g.,
probation officers), but systematic comparisons between the two groups supervision practices are not made.
11 Information about curfew compliance is forwarded to a central monitoring service, where it is acted upon,
but it is not clear by whom or how ([45], p. 582).
12 Such tracking of the FMOs working practices implies that FMOs are surveilled as much as they surveil, a
point that Paterson [65] explores in some depth.
13 Hucklesby describes officers who skirt threats in the field by avoiding assigned areas ([39], p. 69),
misrepresenting the auspices of their home visits, minimizing their authority to offenders, aborting visits
prematurely, and sidestepping confrontation ([39], p. 70). The company’s policystating that if monitoring
officers felt unsafe before or during a visit they were not required to complete it and simply had to inform
managers of their decision ([39], p. 69)presumably encouraged such an orientation.
422 P.R. Ibarra et al.
In a fieldwork-based account (see [40], p. 34) of a pretrial supervision
program in a Midwestern U.S. countys probation department, Ibarra [40]
examines how EM is deployed in the context of DV cases to deter defendants
from contacting an estranged partner. Ibarra explicates how EM is embedded
amidst a series of liberty restrictions.14 Compliance is documented by monitor-
ing records that, along with the immediate arrest report, arrest history, and
information provided by the victim, constitute an assemblage of tools used to
construct a clients risk horizons ([40], p. 46)i.e., the officers emergent
sense of the range of dangers a client poses to a victim, himself, or others (e.g.,
children, pets). Reminiscent of Emersons [17] term remedial horizons, as
used by Ibarra [40], the risk horizons are in play and constantly changing based
on the officers reading of converging data streams. Red flags are signals to
the officer that a defendant merits close scrutiny, while trigger control
involves prospectively anticipating and managing the defendants thoughts and
feelings to ensure he remains actively deterred from harming the alleged victim
[40]. As officers work the case, red flags are not strictly, or even mainly,
derived from the RF-based EM records (including logs registering curfew-
related behaviors, and tamper alerts), or risk classification. 15 Rather, and
consistent with Lynchs study of parole officers [48], Ibarra ([40], p. 40) finds
that, beginning with the initial intake meeting (cf. [46], p. 553; [79], p. 42),
officers identify red flags by interacting strategically with supervisees, attending
to what defendants reveal (intentionally and inadvertently) about their doings
and states of mind, noting whether defendants dissemble, are evasive or overly-
friendly, try to direct the conversation, or resist their authority.16 By contrast,
trigger control can involve encouraging the offender to take up certain pursuits,
or altering the defendants living environment so that presumably noxious
influences are limited or removed (e.g., requiring that a defendant with a history
of substance use relocate from a neighborhood with high drug activity). 17 The
organization of casework around red flags and trigger control suggests that officers
view surveillance technology as an insufficient means of deterrence or source of
insight into a defendants mentality.
14 Inductees were prohibited from communicating with the victim and approaching the victims residence, and
faced a number of probation-like constraints and obligations.
15 From the perspective of the risk horizon, a risk assessment score is but one seemingly static albeit validated
data point among the many information streams that a community corrections officer can consider. Risk
assessment generally pertains to placement and programming, and scores do not incorporate emergent
information; the risk a client poses is constructed as being more or less static. Constraints on defendants
are based on a prediction about what they are likely to do (e.g., abscond, reoffend, violate court orders), and
result in the offender being placed into a (a) program designed to receive high (or low) risk clients [37], (b)
risk-graded version of a program [72], or (c) judge-customized regime ([82], p. 11). See Lynch [48] and
Bullock [7] for an examination of the role of risk classification in the work of parole and probation officers,
respectively.
16 For example, Clients who seem inclined to test rules, or who seem prepared to challenge the PO’s [probation
officers] right to enforce them, stand out and are easily discerned by the PO in interaction, both because
of their non-deferential manner as well as their gripes about various program elements ([40], p. 40). The
officer will tend to think that the defendant is up to something, and subject them to surprise home visits.
17 The approach echoes the strategy described as environmental corrections [16].
Surveillance as casework: supervising domestic violence 423
The current framework
Surveillance with, and without, supervision
Surveillance and supervisionas reviewed abovehave varying degrees of intercon-
nection in the work of EM officers. Surveillance-without-supervision is less informed
by data stream discoveries, including those emerging from one-on-one encounters with
surveilled persons. Such surveillance is atomistic: episodic, passive, non-cumulative,
and fragmentary. Thus, the FMOs described in the England- and Wales-based research
seem unaware of why an offender has been tagged or subjected to curfew, and the
possible import of what they observe of an offenders actions or environment. 18
Supervision-informed surveillance (i.e., surveillance-with-supervision), by contrast, is
characterized by recursivity, i.e., an officers engagement with data streams that
productively shape the ongoing working of a case. Such practice is predicated on a
holistic grasp of each person as having a particular biography, offense history, person-
ality, set of needs, or complex of risks. When an individual is not a mere data double
[36], but comprehended through a variety of sources, surveillance enables insight into a
persons issues and challenges, and thus can extend the agencys emphasis on control
or care ([39], p. 61). Ibarra [40] shows that a surveillance approach predicated on
recursivity entails using accumulating information about a given subject to iteratively
direct how surveillance proceeds; as bits and details about the defendant (and victim)
are pieced together from personal encounters and technologically-mediated sources (E-
mail and text messages, urine screens, monitoring logs, etc.), the officer crafts strategies
to work the case. In such circumstances, surveillance and supervision are intertwined:
each informs the other and can only be distinguished nominally. Surveillance is bound
up with cases as they unfold and challenge supervising officers interpretive practices.
Core surveillance processes are integrated with and expressed through how officers
interact with and interpret data streams, including signs given and given off [33] by
offenders under their watch.
Accounting for sense of mission and due process
The preceding review also affirms the importance of accounting for the style of
surveillance endorsed by a given jurisdiction, agency, or department to direct officer
decision-making. While penological discourses are relevant for understanding societal
changes and large-scale institutional trends, an organizations sense of mission ([85],
p. 13) better illuminates the logic of casework practiced by officers, as it may permeate
units therein. For Wilson, an organization has a sense of mission when its culture is
widely shared and warmly endorsed by operators and managers alike ([86], p. 95).
Influenced by overriding philosophies, professional background and training, organi-
zational features, particular goals, and logistical considerations, surveillance styles
18 Although some of the offenders are also under the supervision of a probation officer, there is no indication
of how data streams that emerge from monitoring affect the practice of probation supervision; indeed, as Mair
and Nellis [53] note, in England and Wales, both policy and practice on probation and EM run on parallel
tracks and rarely inform each other.
424 P.R. Ibarra et al.
just like Wilsons policing styles ([84], cf. [3])reflect the unique sense of mission
characteristic of the unit where the officer is employed (cf. [11]).
The sense of mission animating justice agencies programs and policies commonly
reflect orientations skewed toward either end of two continua, each with inherent
tensions between polarities: first, a due process versus crime control continuum
associated with the means of criminal justice [63], second, a treatment versus punish-
ment continuum associated with the ends of criminal justiceto rehabilitate or to
sanction [29]. The community corrections literature is largely conceptualized around
the handling of convicted parties, obscuring the central role of due process in casework
with pretrial populations. Whereas a crime control orientation endorses the idea that
the repression of criminal conduct is by far the most important function to be
performed by the criminal process ([63], p. 48), and operations presume that offenders
are probably guilty, a due process focus prioritizes the doctrine of legal guilt over
factual guilt ([63], p. 53), recognizing the possibility of error entering into criminal
justice procedures. The treatment versus punishment continuum concerns the extent to
which justice responses pursue the ideal of rehabilitation [29], as opposed to being
content with acting retributively. The former orientation emphasizes discerning offend-
er needs and constructing a remedial regimen in response; the latter is indifferent to
offender needs, imposing instead deprivations and hurdles amounting to an ordeal.
Although practices and considerations associated with opposing polarities will
likely be found (cf. [6], p. 12), such divergences are apt to be constructed in
ways that are consistent with, or do not undermine, the agencys commitment
to its sense of mission.19
GPS for DV programs pursue a balance of emphasis along each of the two continua.
Those programs stressing victim protection will likely have extensive supervisory
levers in place, a
