Maine Department of Corrections Commissioner Randall Liberty is set to leave his post Oct. 1. Liberty, whose father was incarcerated at the Maine State Prison, explores how that experience shaped his career in corrections in his 2026 book, "Liberty’s Prison: The Inmate’s Son Who Radically Reformed an American Prison." (Anna Chadwick/Staff Photographer)

MAINE STATE PRISON — Two men in shorts and T-shirts stood on a walkway chatting on a clear Wednesday morning in September. Rows of flowers and carrots planted nearby soaked up the sun. Both men were out for a walk before work.

In separate cases in 1999 and 2009, these men were each convicted of murder. The bountiful gardens, personal laptops, permission for remote work and largely unsupervised time are all part of their lives at Maine State Prison. Barbed wire at the top of a fence was visible in the distance, but up close it appeared this conversation could’ve happened at any local park.

A lot has changed in Maine’s correctional system under the leadership of Randall Liberty, commissioner of Maine’s Department of Corrections, who walked up to the men wearing a tan suit.

“What’s going on, guys?” Liberty asked.

His dad served time in prison when Liberty was a child. That, combined with Liberty’s years in the military and law enforcement, formed his belief that people in prison should be treated with respect, life inside should be as normal as possible, and the main goal should be to rehabilitate.

Liberty traveled to Istanbul last year to promote these reforms, which he calls the Maine Model of Corrections. He recently hosted representatives from Israel, Ireland and Norway, and delegations from at least 14 states have come to see it in action. 

The Brennan Center for Justice, a national, nonpartisan policy institute that is studying Maine’s prison system, said other states are right to look here as an example, and that Liberty’s attempt to spread the changes statewide is unique. The group issued a new report that calls Maine a “pioneer,” and says the results so far are promising, particularly in reducing violence among inmates and staff uses of force.

The model is widely respected within Maine, too, although people on both sides of the political aisle have questions about the results. Even Liberty acknowledged that for all the attention the Maine model is getting, the transformation from a system focused on punishment to one focused on rehabilitation is unfinished. 

But he won’t be leading the charge to finish it.

Liberty, 62, will step down as commissioner on Oct. 1, shortly before Gov. Janet Mills, who appointed him, leaves office.

While Maine started some of the prison reforms before he took the helm, Liberty’s personal mark on the system is visible everywhere, like in a CBS national news segment this month in which Liberty donned a beekeeping suit in the state prison’s garden where inmates can learn the trade.

Brennan Center Justice Program director Ram Subramanian said he thinks Liberty has gotten people below him at the Department of Corrections on board with the vision, and he’s begun the difficult work of changing the culture among inmates themselves, whose buy-in is as important as the staff’s.

“I do hope it continues,” Subramanian said. “I hope they build on their successes.”

MUTUAL RESPECT

The Maine Model is built on the idea that being locked up for years is punishment enough. Once people are inside, the system should help address chronic problems in their lives and prepare them to be productive when they leave, since about 95% will walk out of the prison doors.

A culture of mutual respect among staff and inmates is essential, Liberty said, and acts as a kind of security system. He calls the people incarcerated in the eight state-run facilities he oversees “residents,” and said everyone should care about each other’s wellbeing.

As he led Portland Press Herald journalists through the state prison this month, just a few staff watched over hundreds of inmates in the building where they played basketball and pickleball, lifted weights, spent time in the chapel and bought food at the commissary window.

Liberty uses every opportunity to enforce the culture he wants to see. Walking briskly by the weight room, an inmate made a flippant remark to a reporter about the quality of the food at the prison. Liberty, in mid-stride, pivoted to ask a staff member for the inmate’s name.

“That’s not how we act in this community,” Liberty said later. “If you’ve got a problem with the food, reach out to me. We’ll figure something out.”

Several inmates stopped the commissioner to ask about an issue and Liberty offered a way to follow up. One called the commissioner “brother” as they parted ways.

This culture may explain why there’s much less violence reported in the prisons. Between 2017-2024, rates fell by 36%, and those for staff use of force fell by 69%, the Brennan Center found.

Fleet Marie, a 7-month-old dog in training to become a service dog for America’s VetDogs, receives a treat from a Maine State Prison inmate participating in the facility’s K-9 training program on Sept. 16 in Warren. (Anna Chadwick/Staff Photographer) Purchase this image

Inmates told the researchers that violence was far less of a concern for them than it had been in prior years or in other facilities.

Brennan’s report said this is a key metric of success of a corrections system. Yet in most places, “immediate safety concerns and harsh punishment often take precedence,” the center wrote.

It may be one reason why Maine now has an easier time retaining corrections officers and filling positions in prisons than other states, but culture change takes time, Liberty acknowledged. In the Brennan Center survey, 41% of incarcerated men said staff did not treat inmates with respect. That’s 16 points better than a similar survey of prisoners in five other states the Urban Institute did last year, but still shows room for growth.

“It takes persistence to really move the needle,” Subramanian said.

DAD WAS INCARCERATED

When Liberty was just a kid, he visited his own father at the Maine State Prison. In his memoir published this year, “Liberty’s Prison: The Inmate’s Son Who Radically Reformed An American Prison,” co-written with freelance writer Christine Graf, they said the facility at the time was designed to “overwhelm inmates with feelings of ‘horror and remorse.’”

As recently as 2013, the Press Herald reported that staff, inmates and advocates called the prison’s culture “toxic,” and inmates were treated in a way that was “more punitive than rehabilitative.” A prison worker union representative said at the time, “No one wants to work in corrections.”

In part because of his dad, Liberty believes there are six root causes of incarceration: substance abuse, mental illness, poverty, neglect, educational deficiencies and trauma.

As described in the book, his dad checked at least four of those boxes and was arrested more times than anyone in the family can remember. Those stints in prison did not help his dad address the core of his problems.

When Liberty later worked for the Kennebec County Sheriff’s Office, he went to crime scenes and saw hundreds of homes where, “I looked at those kids and, you know, that was me,” he said.

Society had let his family down in some respects, he said, especially during one winter when the family of four kids went without running water for three months because the pipes froze. Now thinking about the men and women in the state’s prisons, Liberty said, “All of the systems leading up to incarceration have failed them in one way or the other.”

”We’re the stop of last resort to help these people.”

He’s boosted substance use and mental health treatments in the prisons, and he’s not afraid to try new things. He pointed to what he considers the “gold standard” for the Maine model: a prison unit that looks almost like a college dorm with blue painted walls. Instead of staying for four years, though, inmates could be here for decades.

A room inside the Earned Living Unit at the Maine State Prison, where residents live with greater independence and responsibility as part of the facility’s rehabilitation-focused approach to incarceration. (Anna Chadwick/Staff Photographer) Purchase this image

Dan Roberts, who’s served 21 years of a 55-year sentence for murder (which he said he is still appealing), leaned against the door to his room that has a single bed, a hand-painted mural and two small mounted televisions.

He said he keeps one always tuned to financial news channels so he can call his daughter and advise her on stock trades.

This area, which houses 25-30 people, used to be for solitary confinement. Inmates would exercise by walking in circles in a dog pen. Now it’s the opposite. They have an open kitchen, a long fish tank in the common area, and their own gym and showers. They can walk around the outdoor gardens where they can grow and pick their own food.

Inmates say those amenities are an incentive to behave well and give them a sense of purpose.

Liberty said he understands it can be surprising and hard to see someone convicted of murder living a somewhat “normal” life. He said after he talks to victims or their families they generally — but not always — support the Maine model’s reforms.

Some of the money inmates earn goes toward paying restitution. They also pay child support and cover some of the costs of their incarceration, which Liberty said improves public safety and accountability. Maine has done more around inmate remote work than any other state, according to the Alliance for Higher Education in Prison.

Another man who lives in the unit and was convicted of murder expects to leave prison in six years. The Press Herald is not naming him at the request of a member of the family of the person he killed, who said seeing him in this story could retraumatize the victim’s other family members.

The inmate said that with the money he’s earned working remotely, he recently bought a house.

“I’m just trying to set myself up for when I do get out,” he said. “Education, employment, stable housing — these are all things that help the recidivism rate drop.”

DISCONNECT ON THE GROUND

When Liberty took over as warden of the Maine State Prison in 2015 and then as commissioner in 2019, there was already some momentum for reform, said Subramanian from the Brennan Center. Corrections officials in various states have embraced the idea that prison shouldn’t necessarily be a horrible place, he said.

Maine stands out for its push to expand reforms to all of its prisons and as many inmates as possible, he said. Currently, 170 inmates in Maine are full-time college students, 12 are graduate students, and four are PhD candidates, Liberty said. Others learn woodworking, upholstery, welding or culinary skills, and get trained as commercial drivers or to work in hospitality. 

Liberty said opportunities to work, study, and have computers need to grow in order for more of Maine’s approximately 2,100 inmates to get access.

The Earned Living Unit at Maine State Prison includes a communal kitchen where residents live with greater independence and responsibility. The unit reflects a rehabilitation-focused approach to incarceration influenced by the Norwegian model of corrections. (Anna Chadwick/Staff Photographer) Purchase this image

Foster Bates is president of the state prison’s NAACP branch and has been incarcerated for 25 years serving a life sentence for a murder he maintains he did not commit. He said in an interview this spring that he appreciates the programs at the state prison, but that it can be hard to take advantage of them because some are restricted to a few dozen people, and because of lock-ins in the prison.

“Residents here don’t have a problem with the policy. We have an issue with the disconnect of how it’s being implemented,” Bates said.

“It’s challenging for some who are incarcerated to have a perspective of where we are nationally, where Maine was 10 years ago, and where Maine is today,” Liberty said. “Prison isn’t an easy experience regardless of how many opportunities they have.”

The Department of Corrections did not provide lock-in data, but said there has been a reduction.

Bates said he wished Liberty wouldn’t retire. “He’s leaving behind a legacy that can be built upon, but I think it could be destroyed,” he said.

Gubernatorial candidates Democrat Hannah Pingree and Republican Bobby Charles did not answer questions about how they would approach corrections. Independent Rick Bennett said he supports the Maine Model and that rehabilitation and humane treatment belong in the corrections system.

Areas for improvement documented by the Brennan Center include access to healthcare, which got particularly low marks from incarcerated women; the process for inmates to file grievances; and the system’s capacity to prepare people for release.

Just 10% of incarcerated men and 2% of women told the Brennan Center that the facility they’re in does a good job at preparing people to leave. Liberty said he wants to see Maine put more money toward transitional housing.

Still, recidivism is down under his leadership. The Brennan Center noted an 8% drop between people released in 2014 and 2022, the most recent year data is available, though the researchers said it will take more time to know for sure if it’s because of the reforms. 

“These initial results show what prison officials and systems can accomplish with limited budgets amid shifting political winds,” the report said. In a sign of Liberty’s cooperation with the study, he’s scheduled to do a presentation with Brennan’s staff in Belfast, Ireland, in October.

State Senator Scott Cyrway, the top Republican on the Criminal Justice and Public Safety Committee, said he has “a lot of respect” for Liberty, whom he served with at the Kennebec County Sheriff’s Office. The senator commended the culture Liberty has been able to foster in the prisons.

A resident walks “the mile” at Maine State Prison, a designated walking route inside the facility’s grounds. (Anna Chadwick/Staff Photographer) Purchase this image

But Cyrway is skeptical of the results the Maine Model has produced. He thinks reductions in recidivism could be because Maine has recently made some conduct that used to be criminal into civil offenses. He worries the focus is being taken off of accountability, and he wants to see more support for drug addiction before people are released from prison.

Though his tenure is up on October 1, Liberty is not going far. He plans to work three days a week for Amend, a prison reform program under the University of California San Francisco. In that capacity, he’ll still be leading tours of Maine’s prisons for people from other states and countries.

He’ll also focus on improving access to education, remote work and internet for inmates in Maine, without having to do the administrative duties that come with being commissioner.

“This will allow me to focus on those things I think really make a difference,” he said.

But it also means he’ll no longer be the guy calling the shots.

“In the last eight years, I’ve been hiring people that are like minded, believe in redemption and are forward thinking,” Liberty said. “It’s time for people behind me to step up.”