Jaclyn Eitrem
Students of JustDane’s Just Bakery program in the kitchen.
JustDane’s Just Bakery program works with individuals who have significant barriers to employment, including former inmates.
Where do people go after being released from prison? For some, it’s Madison’s homeless shelter on Zeier Road, operated by local nonprofit Porchlight.
“It’s more common for us to see folks who are discharging out of jail or prison in the Dane County area, but we have people who are bussed or cabbed from other areas of the state or other states, who are coming from incarceration and then sent to our shelter,” Kim Sutter, the nonprofit’s director of emergency services, tells Isthmus.
When people arrive at the shelter for the first time they fill out an enrollment form. During the period from September 2024 through August 2025, about 119 people — 9% of new guests — reported coming from prison. That’s up from 82 people, or 6% of guests, during the same period the year before.
Sutter estimates up to two people are dropped off by police officers at the shelter weekly; one to two people come from another county or state every month, she estimates.
The shelter has a 250-bed limit, though it admits 300 people on average a night. Sheltering people from other areas takes a toll, says Sutter, adding that people with prior convictions are more likely to “languish for a period of time” in shelters.
“It is a pressure on our already very limited resources,” Sutter says.
Formerly incarcerated people are 10 times more likely to be homeless than the general public, according to a 2018 report from the Prison Policy Initiative. People of color, according to the report, were significantly more likely to be homeless, with Black men and women most at risk.
The state Department of Corrections has contracts with some transitional houses to serve people upon release, but beds are limited, and many formerly incarcerated people are released without housing. People released into homelessness are more likely to return to prison, a 2013 study of homeless populations in Washington state found, particularly if they do not receive “wrap-around services” — personalized, comprehensive support for housing, employment and other needs — upon release.
Nonprofits in Madison that do reentry work say the city’s housing shortage poses a significant challenge for keeping people off the streets, and out of prison.
It’s harder now for formerly incarcerated people to find housing than work, says Linda Ketcham, executive director of JustDane. “When I started [in 2006], and during the Great Recession, I would say about 30% of our participants could find jobs, and about 85% could find housing. Now we’re at a point where about 30% can find housing and 85% can find employment.”
Madison has not built enough new market-rate and affordable housing units over the past decade to keep up with demand, and rents in the city have increased nearly 50% over the last five years. For formerly incarcerated people, there is an additional challenge — many landlords are hesitant to rent to people with prior convictions.
“For some landlords, they look at it like, ‘Hey, it’s a risk. What will this person bring to our property?’” says Anthony Cooper, vice president of strategic partnerships and reentry services for nonprofit Nehemiah.
Both JustDane and Nehemiah maintain relationships with landlords and employers in order to help people find housing and jobs upon their release. Still, Ketcham and Cooper say many clients remain chronically homeless and couchsurf or stay at local shelters while they’re working with the groups.
It’s not always an issue of money, either — John Givens, a reentry specialist with JustDane, notes that many people work while incarcerated and exit with substantial sums in their bank accounts.
“I got a guy coming out, he’s gonna have $132,000 in his release account,” Givens says. “His bigger problem is that he’s a sex offender.”
Under state law, rules for where sex offenders can live depend on the severity of the crime and who is the victim. Sex offenders are ineligible for federal housing assistance through the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development and often meet resistance from landlords.
Adds Ketcham: “What we’ve seen in a couple instances is somebody actually comes out with enough money [but] they can’t get a landlord to rent to them, so they bought a condo. But that’s a very small group of people.”
Nehemiah offers transitional housing through an apartment the nonprofit operates; other transitional housing options in Madison include the Jessie Crawford Recovery Center and ARC Community Services, a nonprofit dedicated to serving formerly incarcerated women. Most of ARC’s available beds are contracted through the Department of Corrections for substance use rehabilitation, says executive director Linda Van Tol.
Transitional housing offered through ARC helps women readjust to society and avoid recidivism, Van Tol says: “What makes you a model prisoner does not make you a model member of society. When they come out of the institution, they need this support.”
Ketcham also sees a need for more housing options for people released from prison with significant mental health or substance abuse challenges who may be unwilling or unable to use shelters.
“One of the failures that we saw with the efforts to de-institutionalize and reform the mental health system was that a lot of single room occupancy housing was done away with… [a] place where somebody could have rented, for $200 a week, their own room with a shared bathroom and maybe a shared kitchen,” she says. “We just don’t have those options.”
More assisted living options for seniors are also needed. One in 10 prisoners in Wisconsin is 60 years of age or older, Wisconsin Watch reported in October.
“We have to be thinking about it,” Ketcham says. “Otherwise, we’re going to see an increase in elderly, frail people coming out living on the streets.”
But, she sees some small opportunities for easing the housing crunch faced by her group’s clients.
She says JustDane has requested that the city’s Community Development Authority and the Dane County Housing Authority, both of which administer federal housing vouchers and public housing units, be more flexible when considering housing for people who have been arrested for or convicted of crimes. Ketcham would specifically like Dane County and the city to consider only convictions, not charges, when determining eligibility.
“We do work with people who could move in with family members [already living in subsidized housing] if it weren’t for some of those rules.”



