The Daily - The Field: The Fight For Voting Rights in Florida

Episode Date: October 2, 2020

This episode contains strong language. During much of this election cycle, Julius Irving of Gainesville, Fla., spent his days trying to get former felons registered to vote.He would tell them about Florida’s Amendment Four, a ballot initiative that extended the franchise to those who had, in the past, been convicted on felony charges — it added an estimated 1.5 million people to the electorate, the nation’s largest voting expansion in four decades.On today’s episode, Nicholas Casey, a national politics reporter, spends time with Mr. Irving in Gainesville and explores the voting rights battle in Florida.Guest: Nicholas Casey, a national politics reporter for The New York Times. For more information on today’s episode, visit nytimes.com/thedaily Background reading: Former prisoners can now go to the polls in Florida. But fines remain one obstacle. Believing anything will make a difference is another. That’s where Julius Irving comes in.

Let me get my car roll. Okay. Okay, yes, ma'am, but this is a whole separate line right there. That's true that you're resident in Florida. Oh, I see him. He's actually out there talking to someone, trying to get them to sign up. Hey, I see you. I see you out there. I think you already started to work. That's the last one, the social, which I'm not even playing. Bro. Hey, I see you. I see you out there.

I think you already started to work. That's good. Yeah, yeah. While waiting on you, I just took the opportunity to come over here and to try to get you sick. Ah, no problem. Okay, we'll walk to where you are right now.

All right. Okay. Okay. So while he was waiting on us, he was trying to register somebody. Yeah, he went ahead and started work. From the New York Times, this is The Field. I'm Nick Casey in Florida.

Oh, yeah, and these are reporters from New York Times. Hey, I'm Nick. David F I went down to Gainesville. Because after decades of restricting former felons from voting, one of the few states to do so, in late 2018, the state passed an amendment called Amendment 4, which automatically restored a person's voting rights at the end of their sentence. And overnight, it added nearly one and a half million new eligible voters to the ranks. We went to meet Julius Irving, who works for a group that was trying to get this new voting population registered ahead of the November election. I'm a convicted felon, bro. Listen, though, listen, though. That's good, right?

And you said that all the time, bro. Amendment 4 got passed in 2018. What, convicted felons can actually vote now? Yeah, that don't tell you the whole thing. You have to go through clemency and all that. That's how it used to be. But when Amendment 4 got passed, it made it was automatic. At the end of your sentence, you automatically get your rights restored, right? And Florida was one of four states left out of 50 states.

So, 40 states did it already. And Florida was one of four states that permanently barred felons. You had to go through the clemency process. But in 2018, November 2018, that law got eradicated. And now 1.4 million convicted felons can vote now, bro. There's so many walking around still thinking that, bro. We came to Gainesville because the city is about a quarter black in a state where one-fifth of African Americans have felony convictions right now.

Florida is also, of course, a swing state, a state that has in the past been decided by around 500 votes. And this year, it's considered essential in President Trump's narrowing path to victory. And so this is exactly the sort of place where if Democrats could register and activate even a fraction of the one and a half million convicted felons affected by Amendment 4, it would have a meaningful difference in the election. Who are you going to vote for? I don't know yet. They're going to be the Republicans.

Okay, another thing too, bro. What's your political party affiliation? I don't have one. Independent. Okay, but I've got to take this too long. Just you're bigger than Lesa Crook, that's it. So as the general election got underway, we wondered what kind of efforts were being made in the state to try to mobilize this new group of voters,

and what efforts were being made to stop them from voting. All right. Tell me about your morning so far so I can get a mic check. My morning was pretty good so far. So far, so good. You know, I got a decent amount of rest. I was able to, you know, get up and actually be able to wash my face and everything and all of that stuff and get a bite to eat.

We met up with Julius at our hotel before a morning of registering voters. We're meeting there because he's currently sleeping in his car. You know, it seems, it sounds bad, right? But in comparison to sleeping at the park or sleeping on the back of a business truck at a company or something like that, to me, it's a, I count it a joy, I count it a blessing. It's a step toward, you know, a better way of being, or whatever. Julius is himself a former felon. He got out of prison nearly a decade ago, and he agreed to let us watch him do his work.

But we first wanted to spend a little time understanding his own story. So let's talk a little bit about where you grew up and how you grew up. Tell me a little bit about what it was like growing up here in Gainesville. Growing up here in Gainesville, it was pretty good for the most part, you know. Although I stayed in almost every housing project in Gainesville, it was pretty good. You know, sang, playing, laughing. I loved to draw. Yeah.

And what did you want to be when you grew up? At the time, I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to just draw stuff. I just wanted to be an artist, yeah. How did you start drawing? I can't remember the start of it. Oh, I do remember actually. At Rodgers Elementary, it was this cool teacher, art teacher named Mr. Booth, a black guy. I remember seeing a picture of Mike Tyson he drew. I was just standing in the

hallway just looking at it. Every time we'd go down the hallway to lunch or whatever, I'd just be standing there just looking at the picture. One day he stopped and asked me, I see you all the time looking at the picture. Anything you want to ask me? I was like, yeah, how did you make the hair look so real? And he told me, I did figure eights. Since then, I've started really getting into drawing. I got really good at it really fast. What did you talk about, if anything, about politics growing up?

Did you ever hear about politics? What was your family's point of view on what was going on in the government? That was never really a conversation I heard talked about too much, you know. But the earliest I can remember anything about government, politics, stuff like, oh, Bill Clinton. You know, our city of London

has a new candidate, Governor Bill Clinton. We were watching, we were watching, I think it was was it in Living Color or something and Bill Clinton was playing the saxophone or some shit like that. And I remember him my dad or somebody saying something about, oh yeah, how cool he was or something like that.

Do you remember ever seeing your mom or dad go and vote? Never. They never said, OK, I got to go because it's voting day. No, I'll be back, kids. I'm going to vote right away. No, I never heard those conversations ever. No. Never.

Why do you think that is? Why do you think they, do you think they did vote, or? I'm just, life for certain people is really different, you know. Certain things, some people never have to even think about or worry about, because, you know, it's a given. You know, I have gas to go where I need to go, or I have enough food to eat. That's not like a worry. But other people, they live in a state of need or worry or things of this nature.

So I guess that wasn't something that wasn't worth discussing. Okay, now tell me about the first time that you got in trouble with the law. First time I ever got in trouble with the law, I had just turned 18. I turned 18 February the 9th. This all probably happened like March sometime. The story of how Julius became disenfranchised is a pretty common story for Black men in Florida before Amendment 4 passed. Young men were getting their right to vote stripped from them almost as soon as they were becoming eligible to vote. to vote stripped from them almost as soon as they were becoming eligible to vote.

If you were like Julius and got busted when you were 18, poof, your right to vote was gone. But I had brought a bunch of weed, man. It was like some really good weed. And a lady pulled up in the parking lot or whatever was sitting there and she was like, hey, you, you got any coke? I'm like, no, I don't have any coke. You got any weed you can sell me? I'm like, yeah, I don't have any Coke. You got any weed you can sell me? I'm like, yeah, I can sell you a bag of weed. Let me get two of them. I sold her two bags of weed. She got it.

She left. And then like three weeks later, I heard a knock on the door, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, really hard. And lo and behold, it's police officers and a bunch of cameramen. Those are three detectives. And one of them looked really familiar for some reason. This lady looked very familiar. Like, where do I know her from? And that lady that I recognized was the same lady that came and brought the weed from me.

Like, is Julius Irving here? I stepped outside real quick and closed the door. I was, weed, aroma coming out the house. And I was like, yes, sir, I'm Julius Irving. And we have a warrant for your arrest. This part of Julius's story is a little less typical. This was back in 2005. At the time, there was a popular TV show in Gainesville called Gainesville Police Beat. It was like a local version of the show Cops. But this particular show was produced by the police department itself.

But this particular show was produced by the police department itself. So that's who showed up at Julius's door that day, the police and the camera crew, to capture footage of him being arrested to later air on the episode. Welcome to Police Beat. My name is Keith Kamig and I'm the spokesperson for the Gainesville Police Department. Did other people see the TV show? Yeah, at the time it was like, I don't even think the show still runs anymore. But at the time, it was pretty popular in Gainesville. Like, oh, we got our own, we're the cops here in Gainesville, Florida, so everybody watched it or whatnot. Yeah, I heard quite a bit about it after it happened.

Did anybody explain to you what rights you were going to lose with felony charge, with the drug charge? No, not really, no sir. I don't imagine you were thinking about voting at that point. Not at all. Not even a little bit. At that time, voting was probably the farthest thing from my mind. I never thought about things like that at the time. Julius was sentenced to 90 days in jail for selling marijuana to that undercover officer. And after he got out,

he went back to selling drugs. I got discreet life, man. Heavy. You know, I started using harder drugs and everything. I never thought about working. I was like, man, working's some bullshit. Why would I fucking spend eight hours of my life at a place and they don't give me

at the time minimum wage wage was like six something. I sit 75 for an hour of my life. I sit in this place and flip these burgers or take out this trash or mop this floor for $6 per hour. Hell no, I'd rather hang in the hood. I could make motherfucking $100 an hour. You know what I'm saying? Or whatever.

So anyways... He developed an addiction and ended up in and out of jail over the next couple of years on more drug charges. And then he gets a cocaine charge and violates his probation. And the judge gave me a year, one year and one day in prison. Up until this point, Julius had only ever spent time in jail. So this was the first time he'd be going to prison. What was that like?

That right there was, it was hurtful, right? Because to get off this bus, to ride here and see all of these, like, the fucking gun tower, these tall fences with barbed wire everywhere, the officers getting off the bus with the shotguns and everything, and us getting off the bus going in, they're saying, all right, take off all your clothes. We're standing there naked, a room for like 40, 50 men standing there naked. And then we all get ushered into a room, maybe 10 people at a time.

There's other officers there, and they begin to tell us to do things like stand up, bend over, put your forehead on the bench, and spread your butt cheeks. As a man, right, in a room with other men, it was like a weird feeling for any human being, right? I mean, unless you experienced it, it's something else. How did that leave you feeling? It was just degrading.

It was embarrassing on a very, very deep level. I can't explain how embarrassing and how just weird it was, bro. Months into his sentence, Julius says he had an experience that would change him for the worse. The way he tells it, a fellow white inmate believed that Julius had stolen some of his remittance money, which is money sent to inmates by their families so they can buy specialty foods and items in the prison. And then one day, Julius says that he was working his job at the prison as a laundromat, handing out clothes to other inmates.

So I was doing my laundry thing, duties and whatnot, and while I was inside the laundry room, there's a door that comes from outside of the dorm that only an officer could open. Any door inside of there with a lock on it, only an officer could open it or whatever. So when I heard the door open behind me, I just assumed that it was an officer coming in. I didn't initially turn around to look or whatever. I just kept doing my work, kept my head down working.

So when I heard the door open and close, what was said from the person behind me turned around. I was like, yo, what's up, man? Julius alleges that it was a prison guard who allowed the other prisoner into the room to resolve this dispute. They opened the door, let him in and closed it. It was just me and him, and it was like a guard supervising the fight. After a extended period of time went by, the guard opened the door. The guy, the dude, he walked out, and they told me to clean this shit up and get ready for laundry. So you were in the custody of the state of Florida when this happened to you?

Custody of the state of Florida, yes, sir. After that, Julius was assigned to work at a lumber mill under a contract between the prison and a private company that uses prison labor. He was paid 25 cents an hour and says he became an agitator at the bill, calling it legalized slavery and encouraging others to quit and protest the low wages. He says one day he reached a breaking point and began just screaming at people. He was put in solitary confinement for 30 days where he alleges that he was regularly beaten by the guards. How did this leave you feeling about the state?

It made me feel like the state is worse than any person inside of here. It made me really start looking at the system in a different kind of way. Like, you know, like, it's corrupt, it's evil, it's wicked, and it's promoting the same thing as saying that it's trying to stop. It's creating more violent versions of people. You know, I went to prison a pretty good dude, bro, but I came home from prison with a chip on my shoulder. You know what I'm saying?

Well, it wasn't there like that before. Did you feel the state was here to protect you at all? Not at all. Not even a little bit. There's a time where I believe that, you know, all cops weren't bad. I thought that. Before this, I came home thinking they're all bad. They're all bad.

I look at police now as the biggest gang in the city. The biggest, most organized gang in the city. You know, and I look at politicians and people of that nature as like the mob bosses. And the police officers are the enforcers, you know, because I understood like gang life or whatever. And I associate it. It's the same concept. They just do it on a bigger, greater scale. So Julius's prison experience leaves him with a tremendous amount of distrust of the system. But it also activated him in a way that sort of unexpectedly leads him to this kind of work trying to convince people to engage with the system.

It starts when he's released in 2009 and eventually gets a job working at Waffle House. When was the first time you heard about Amendment 4? First time I heard about Amendment 4. I got nominated to go to like a men's retreat because some of the activism work I was doing, like another person. What kind of work? Just activism work, dealing with guys getting out of prison, helping people get IDs, get get work boots and stuff, get back and forth to work, whatever. And I was doing all of this out of my own money that I was making at the Waffle House because I was a waiter at the Waffle House. And I got pretty good tips.

I made like $150 a day working like five days a week plus whatever my paycheck was when it came. plus whatever my paycheck was when it came. This work Julius is doing catches the attention of a voting rights group, which is composed of formerly incarcerated people who are campaigning for Amendment 4 to be passed. One of the group's most active members was Julius's own sister, who also served time in prison. Together, they start going through Gainesville. No vote! No vote! No vote! No vote! No vote! No vote! Together, they start going through Gainesville, trying to convince people, people, mind you, who already have the right to vote, to give that right to former felons.

A little bit of news out of Florida. One of the ballot initiatives in Florida that has raised a lot of national attention, including statewide effort, has been Amendment 4, which would restore voting rights to felons. This affects over a million potential voters. And this is now we've got a projected answer. And they were hugely successful. Amendment 4 got passed with 65 percent of Florida voters voting in favor, and it was the largest expansion of voting rights in the country in nearly four decades. I realized through what happened with Amendment 4 that voters collectively, when they're on one accord and unified behind any issue, can actually change existing law.

Politicians care enough about what voters have to say, they collectively get together and say, did that favor or something? They at least put it on the ballot where they can vote on it and then they could possibly change it. So that was like, okay, wow, that's my first time ever seeing any benefit to voting. For Julius, the success of Amendment 4 showed him that voting can actually make a difference. It was the first time seeing a positive side to the government that he'd been so skeptical of. That's how he ended up working for an organization that's been trying to register and activate these 1.5 million potential voters. And so as this amendment was finally being applied for the first time in Florida and people were getting their rights back during a presidential election,

we headed out with Julius to watch him register people to vote. Well, we look for someone. Why don't you tell us a little bit about how you strategize? You know, where are you going to find people? How do you think about the day? Where to catch people? I just think about places where I know a lot of people come. Especially people that, you know, I say my intended group of people, my target group of people, I try to hang in places where I know that they'll come. I'll walk around and look for them or whatever. What's your target group of people, I try to hang in places where I know that they'll come. I'll walk around and look for them or whatever.

How did you try to equip the people? Black people, you know, people that look like me, people that understand like me. And then also, too, I learned that African Americans and black people are one of the most underrepresented groups in terms of registered voters. I just figured it would be easier for me to, like, meet my quota, my goal, by going to people who I know are like stats will show that they're not registered to vote. So we've come with Julius to the parking lot of a strip mall and we're outside of a plasma donation center just outside of downtown Gainesville.

This is one of the places where he's had the most success registering voters. Why do people have to go get plasma? I don't know. It means some quick cash. If I go in here and I give some of my blood or whatever, I can get free snacks and 70 bucks real quick. You know, a lot of people live in a state of need, you know, because making minimum wage in Florida,

the cost of living being as high as it is, and the minimum wage only being like, you know, $8.75. You know, minimum wage sucks. And half of the jobs, you can't even get 40 hours. People need money, bro. Pretty quickly as Julius gets to work, a few things become clear. One is that he's extremely charming. What's the other one?

Oh, yeah, that's for the years of birth. 19, when he was born, 1952. I was going to say 1991. People like talking to him, and they want to help him out by registering. You remember the civil rights movement? People fought for that responsibility for us to be able to, right? But I don't like to, but I will, though, you know what I'm saying? So you're going to help me out?

Thank you so much. Another is that his job is as much about educating people as it is about getting them physically registered. Many of the convicted felons that Julius talks to... Really? Until y'all just came, I didn't even know we could vote yet. You know what I'm saying? ...either don't know that they can vote or are unclear on what exactly Amendment 4 means for them.

Once upon a time, I thought they put a stop, like the felonies or whatever, like, if they got felonies, they can still do it or whatever, you know what I'm saying? So I'm trying to figure out what's going on with it. And in some cases, people are so disconnected from the political system. Check which party you're going to go with,

whether it be Republican or Democrat. I don't even know, I ain't never do it. Tell me, Barack Obama was a Democrat. Donald Trump is a Republican. You feel me? So you know the difference between the two. All right. The Julius finds himself explaining the very basics of government.

And then specify which political party you identify with. I'd rather be Democrat or Republican. I don't know about this. I'm not sure. Okay, so boom. Like I just told you, you don't know the difference between what it means. Okay, Donald Trump is a Republican, and Barack Obama and Bill Clinton were Democrats, right?

But either option that you pick doesn't mean that because I've selected a Republican that I have to vote for that candidate. You feel me? So all it does is allow you to be able to vote in the primaries. Boom. Thank you, man. So sweet. Uh-huh. What's up, sweet?

I appreciate it. What Julius really has going for him as he has these conversations is that he either can connect with or he already knows a lot of people coming in and out of the plasma center. No, I know you. Okay, cool. Like this guy, who he knows from the neighborhood and is also a convicted felon. You can tell this guy the other, bro, to prove you're a Florida resident, either a Florida ID number or just the last four years social.

You can tell this guy is skeptical of registering. But Julius is able to appeal pretty directly. Hey, I get it. But here's why it matters. Also, too, bro, they select jurors from registered voters because Black people are not registered to vote. I could never actually get, you know what I'm saying people that that know me or marry me whatever like imagine imagine a dog going to trial and his jurors is all cats they they already view him and they already view him in a negative light already you feel me so so like they they see guilt even when it's not there

that's what happened to us in court bro so it's so many reasons you could vote bro or you should register to vote and it works that's all right right yeah so that autograph right there and phone them right here right so my manager can call to verify your info and also where you can give me a good review okay we watch as julius registers this new voter i really appreciate it man uh-oh okay but because you pick non-party affiliate your vote you can't even vote in the primary you can vote for other things you feel me but you can't vote for like senator stuff like everything So this looks like success, both in educating this person on his new rights and getting him registered, right?

But we're starting to realize as we listen to these encounters that registering people is really just the first step, and maybe the easy part. As this newly registered voter starts to walk away, Rachel and I grab him for a quick follow-up. Have you ever voted before? No. Why not? I've been a competitive candidate since I was 18. I'll be 37 tomorrow.

Okay, now you just signed up to register to vote, but going to vote is a different thing. Do you think it's going to be worth voting once it gets to November? I don't know. I've got to see who the candidates are and what their agendas are and all that. Because, you know, they give you one thing and then they do it a whole different way. Well, what do you think about voting, just in general?

Like I said, it don't matter to me one way or the other. They're all crooks. I wasn't born rich, so I've got to work either way. So it don't matter. Are you interested in the state attorney's race, given that's the prosecutor's office that's putting a lot of people behind bars? No, I just stay out of his office. Keep my name out of his office.

That's the major part. Y'all have a good one, man. What's your name again? Ronald. Ronald. Ronald Wesley. Okay. Thank you.

It's one thing for Ronald to have registered to vote. It's another to convince him that it's worth his time to actually show up and vote in November. It's that same lack of faith in the system that Julius felt when he got out of prison, where his only experience with the government has been with the law. And the thing is, this group of voters has good reason to mistrust the system and to think it might not want to change its relationship with them either. Ever since Amendment 4 was passed, Republican lawmakers in the state have been working to undermine it. What's your name? Can you introduce yourself? I'm Mr. Kelly. Mr.

Kelly. I'm Nicholas Casey. Nice to meet you. As we're standing outside the Plasma Center, this older gentleman is watching us, curious about the microphone. And eventually, he acts on that curiosity and comes up to us. Nicholas Cage. Nicholas Casey, I wish. If I just had two letters change on my name, I would not be... So this is being video and audio? Just audio. Just audio. So we work for the New York Times. The New York Times also has a pot. Yeah, the New York Times, yeah. We're doing a story on Amendment 4. Do you know what that is? It was a state amendment or federal amendment?

It was a state amendment that they allowed people who had felony convictions to vote again. Oh, yeah, right, right. Yeah, and so what we've been trying to do is talk to people. Like that gentleman over there had a felony conviction. He didn't think. Okay. Like most people might call off felonies. Okay, tell me a little bit about yourself then.

What do you want to know? You mentioned that you'd had a felony conviction. How long ago was it? Was it a long time? Was it recently? Was it? 2015. 2015.

2015. So, you know, more than five years ago. Yeah. Have you? Because we're doing a story about voting right so

but I can't vote because I owe I owe restitution okay the Republicans came behind that voting and they put some

put them things in there give you old restitution or you you got other monetary

court fees enough you still can't vote so I still can't vote. So I still can't vote. Mr. Kelly's right. There are some people who think that Amendment 4 was the end of something. They thought that when this passed, that our work was done.

Shortly after Amendment 4 was passed, Republicans did come in behind it, and they passed legislation that aimed to dramatically limit its effect. See, I maintained my commitment from day one on this initiative that we would take this for what it was, and we would continue doing the great policy work that I am proud of. In June 2019, the Republican governor, DeSantis, signed into law a requirement that convicted felons pay all the court fees associated with their case, even a fee associated with accepting a public defender, before they would be allowed to vote again. The argument was that a person's sentence is not actually complete until they've paid these fees. Do you know how much it is that you owe? The restitution is $600,000. $600,000, okay. What was the restitution for?

It was for my employer. That money that Mr. Kelly says he owes has to do with a pretty complicated fraud scheme from a few years back. And, like, how much are you making a month, for example? Now, do you got a job? Yeah. Okay, if they put you on a payment plan to pay $600,000, how many years would it take to pay that? You're on a payment plan. How much do you pay every month? $100, minimum.

So you pay the minimum $100. That would be $1,200 a year. That would be about 400 years before you'd be able to pay off the rest of it. Yeah, they know that. So even though technically Amendment 4 gave Mr. Kelly his right to vote back, practically speaking, this new law made voting impossibly out of reach. But then, shortly after Governor DeSantis signed the law, 17 former felons, along with the ACLU, sued the state.

And in October of 2019, a judge said those 17 people did not have to pay fees in order to vote. And the expectation was that the ruling would eventually apply to all felons whose voting rights had been reinstated under Amendment 4. But in this moment, as we're talking to Mr. Kelly, everything is still kind of hanging in limbo. While we're standing there talking to him, Julius comes over. Yes, sir. I'm going to come talk to you and ask Yes, sir. Julius is trying to convince states say, no, I can't vote. The feds are not in charge of elections. Julius is trying to convince Mr. Kelly that he's okay to vote. Honestly, right, I still have a restitution.

I just got my voter registration card. I'll go get out the car and show you. You can get a voter registration card, but legally you can't vote if you're a felon in Florida. But technically, Mr. Kelly is actually right that for the time being, the judge's ruling only applied to those 17 felons. And it just goes to show what a confusing tug of war this right to vote has become. If you owe restitution a fine, you still can't vote. It's passed the Florida legislature. They issue you in the cards. I literally owe a restitution. I'm telling you.

I can go and race to the vote. I can go race to the vote. Now, they'll give me a card. But if I decide to vote, I'll be breaking the law. You know, I don't want to take that chance. I understand. Okay. But thank you anyway, okay? After this interaction, Julius is clearly feeling a little down. He says interactions like this can cause him to reflect on the nature of the work that he's doing and how he came to be doing it. What's it like trying to tell someone to go vote when they remember the same things as you over what the state of Florida once did to them? It's difficult, really. You know what I'm saying? I really battle this thing inside of me sometimes, right?

When I see a guy and he's like, man, adamantly against voting in any kind of way, shape, or fashion, I have to still persuade him to do this or whatever. I used to deal with that a lot when I first got this job. Like, I felt like I was compromising my personal integrity. Remember, Julius's main reason for taking this job wasn't his belief in the power of voting. He took it because he needed a paycheck,

which is really hard to come by if you have a felony conviction. And while the passage of Amendment 4 was this moment where Julius saw what the power of voting can be, the legal battle that has ensued in its wake, that's more closely in line with his overall experience of government and with the state of Florida. So while Julius makes a convincing case for voting every day at work, he can find himself being pretty conflicted about the work that he's doing. As he's talking with us, he remembers one particular conversation where he really felt that, where another former felon actually refused to register.

Young dude standing inside the middle of one of the worst neighborhoods on the southwest side of Gainesville, Florida. And he was very well spoken. And you have to tell from the look in his eyes and from the tone of his voice and the certainty of his words that he knew what he was talking about. He knew how he felt. He knew why he felt that way. And he was strongly against the government and voting and the whole system.

I knew that he had an in-depth reason why. And I totally got it because I have that same view, right? I knew that he was awake and aware. He knew maybe all the things I know, if not more, right? At such a young age, I felt like, oh, man. Oh, man. See, this young man here is standing on his integrity. I'm compromising mine because I'm in need.

I need money, and I want to get it the legal, righteous way. It made me feel like, what's the right word? Like, I don't know if, what's the right word? I don't know if ashamed or the right word, but I just felt like whatever you feel when you know that you've compromised your integrity. To be registering people to vote, you felt that was a compromise. Yeah, I felt that specifically in that moment. Because you thought he was right. Yeah, he is. He is. And I totally got where it was coming from. There's a lot of people who would been listening to this that would say,

I don't understand because the only way to change things is to go out and vote. Why would you never vote? Can you explain that to me? Because you seem to get it to a certain degree. Okay. The whole, I don't understand people that make statements like that, that say the only way to change things is to go out and vote. The only way? Are you certain that's the only way to change things? Well, you're mistaken, my friend. You know what I'm saying?

And I get it. Why waste time with something? Why waste my time with something that I know isn't going to provide me the help that I need now or whatever? with something that I know isn't going to provide me the help that I need now or whatever? Why put the things that I want done or need done for myself in the hands of somebody I'll never see? I'll never see meet or bump into Donald Trump in any kind of way or whoever the next president is or whatever. They'll never send anybody in my communities. They never talk about us. Donald Trump and I sit around, I wonder what Julie's doing in Gainesville. I wonder if Julie's is okay today.

They don't talk about me, they don't worry about me, so I totally get that thing, whatever. Like, hey, man, forget voting, bro. I'm going to go out here and help these people in this community with their cars or whatever, because I got a few guys that I'm sending to Santa Fe for all the mechanics, and we're going

back to the community, giving free auto work to the people out here. And those people in the community will talk about what we did for the next three, four years before they talk about what Trump or Barack Obama did, because they received actual help that benefited their lives today, tomorrow, and in the near future. This way of looking at things only makes more sense in the time since we were in Gainesville. I'm not sure if you missed this news yesterday, but it's pretty monumental for us here in Florida. In May of this year, the Florida judge who sided with the 17 felons and the ACLU

did in fact expand his ruling to apply to all former felons in Florida. Today, a federal judge called it a, quote, pay-to-vote system and said it was unconstitutional when applied to felons who were otherwise eligible to vote, but genuinely unable to pay the required amount. He ruled that requiring former felons to pay off their fines was unconstitutional and essentially mounted to a poll tax. But the reality is that this legal wrangling could still continue here. So far, Governor DeSantis' office is only saying it is in the process of reviewing this ruling. The state responded by challenging that ruling, which landed the case in a federal appeals court. Major shakeup ahead of the election. A federal appeals court's decision today is now putting the voting rights of hundreds of thousands of felons in jeopardy. That court, the 11th Circuit, sided with the Republicans and allowed the restitution

requirement to go into effect until they made their own decision on the case at a later date. And thousands of Floridians are left in the lurch, unsure if they will be able to vote this fall. And just a few weeks ago... Political analysts believe a court ruling today could determine the presidential election in the key swing state of Florida and maybe the nation. The court handed down its definitive ruling. Florida felons must pay all fines before they can vote. That's what a federal appeals court ruled today. In a majority decision consisting in part of five judges appointed by President Trump,

the court ruled that felons do, in fact, have to pay off all their fines and fees before they can vote in November. By the way, the ruling says it is not the state's responsibility to come up with a way to let felons know how much they owe. That burden is on the person. There's no central database where someone can go and check whether they have outstanding fines or if they've paid any amount toward it. And the state says it would take years to make that kind of database. On top of that,

if a person doesn't know if they owe fines or fees and goes ahead and votes anyway, they could face perjury charges, which would mean another felony conviction and the possibility of going back to prison. Some estimates show that this could basically negate Amendment 4, that up to 80% of former felons in Florida will not be eligible to vote in November after all. And one of those people is likely to be Julius himself. He owes money related to his court cases, which would be disqualifying. But on top of that, he now faces a new felony charge, stemming from a knife fight he got into back in March of last year, which he insists was self-defense. But given his long record,

prosecutors charged him with first-degree attempted murder. Because of the pandemic, his case has been up in the air. He's been regularly attending his court dates via Zoom, but no trial date has been set. So things are pretty uncertain for him right now. Regardless, he will most likely face a life sentence. Everybody knows that they're guilty Resting on their conscience eating their inside It's freedom Said it's freedom time now

It's freedom Said it's freedom time now. It's freedom, said it's freedom time now. What was that song? Lowering the Mind. What was the song? I know it's Lord of the Hellbent. That's called Freedom Time, bro. It's like one of my go-to songs that make me feel good.

Sometimes, bro, it doesn't even make me cry, bro. I just feel it so much. Like, oh, I understand, bro. Freedom is more than just not being incarcerated. You can be mentally in prison. You can be bondage to addiction, self-hate, or a negative outlook on life, or anything. So I'm all about freedom in every sense

of the form of the word freedom. I'm all about freedom, bro. I play it in good moments right now. When I feel free. I like to hear it. What's making you feel free right now? Okay, doing a great job, doing the right way. You know, admitting my faults and at risk of being viewed in a negative type of way.

Still admit I'm doing the right thing even though I didn't have to. I feel more like my natural self. I feel like this, huh, father. You know, so yeah, I feel free right now. That's what else you need to know today. Early Friday morning, the White House said that both President Trump and First Lady Melania Trump had contracted the coronavirus, a stunning development that brought the pandemic to the highest possible level of American government, just 33 days before the election. As a result, the president will have to withdraw from the campaign trail and remain isolated at the White House for an unknown period of time.

In a statement, the president's physician said that he expected Trump to carry out his duties without disruption while he recovers. Trump has repeatedly downplayed the threat of the virus, avoided wearing a mask, and held public events at odds with government guidelines. On Thursday, his top advisor, Hope Hicks, tested positive for the virus after traveling with the president on multiple flights. Hours later, the president himself tested positive. The Daily is made by Theo Balcom, Andy Mills, Lisa Tobin, Rachel Quester, Lindsay Garrison, Annie Brown, Claire Tennesketter, Paige Cowett, Michael Simon-Johnson, Brad Fisher,

Larissa Anderson, Wendy Dorr, Chris Wood, Jessica Chung, Stella Tan, Alexandra Lee Young, Lisa Chow, Eric Krupke, Mark George, Luke Vanderplug, Kelly Prime, Sindhu Yanasambandhan, MJ Davis-Lynn, Austin Mitchell, Nina Pontuck, Dan Powell, Dave Shaw, Sydney Harper, Daniel Guimet, Hans Butow, Robert Jimison, Mike Benoit, Bianca Gaver, Liz O'Balin, Aastha Chaturvedi, Rochelle Banja, Caitlin Roberts, Elise Spiegel, Diana Nguyen, and Marion Lozano. Our theme music is by Special thanks to

That's it for The Daily. I'm Michael Barbaro. See you on Monday.