I want to thank Sarah Cate both for her attentive review of Born Innocent and for the opportunity to review her monograph, which broadened my understanding of juvenile justice policy not only in California but also in Texas and Pennsylvania, where I previously lived and engaged with immigrants’ rights and youth justice campaigns. I appreciate that she highlighted how punitive policies of family separation at the US southern border are the tip of the iceberg, pointing to my comparative case studies that show how Canada and other countries have long used practices that involve family separation to deter irregular migration. Here, I have taken care to examine the distinct political and economic contexts of these countries, including the governments of Indigenous nations, while making broader international comparisons where appropriate. We share a deep concern with how inequality and punitive policies affect young people and their communities, despite occasional philosophical differences that may lead us to perceive contradictions where our arguments are in fact complementary.

My point about family separation’s social and economic costs does not simply rest on an appeal to fiscal responsibility, but rather I emphasize the ways in which states “inflict vicarious punishment upon innocent family members” (16), undermining “a key civic role” performed by parents in “raising their children as citizens in becoming” (83). Although I note that family separation through incarceration creates additional financial burdens for the state, this is an ancillary point to broaden the appeal of my argument to policy makers for whom cost is also a concern. Part of my aim is to forge coalitions to influence policy in ways that will lessen family separation in the justice system. In that respect, I take issue with Cate’s claim that I am somehow proposing family unity as a “substitute for the responsibility of society to address economic, political, and racial inequalities.” My entire book highlights the state’s responsibility to prevent unequal treatment and criticizes carceral interventions in marginalized communities such as Indigenous nations (chap. 6), among African Americans (87–88, 165), and within mixed-citizenship–status migrant families (58–63). Protecting jus soli birthright citizenship and preventing racially targeted child welfare interventions (179) are among the many policy interventions I highlight in Born Innocent to prevent state-mandated family separation. And I appreciate the need for broad-based structural policy reforms to address the “broader inequitable social environment” outside prisons, including community family assistance programs (as illustrated, for example, through the implementation of the Anishinabek Nation Child Well Being Law in Ontario).

Cate acknowledges my concern for “the social determinants and structural causes of crime.” Yet I was taken aback by her comment that my “call for rehabilitation [was] at times an odd choice,” which may point to philosophical differences about what rehabilitation should involve. I never intended to, as Cate claims, “stigmatize those who are in prison” or understate “structural impediments to people being ‘productive’ in extremely inequitable societies.” I do, however, argue that community and family leaders can reach young people at risk of crime. In particular, they can help young people embark on a more positive path by giving them role models who understand their life challenges from experience. This is a task that we strive to achieve as teachers and parents.

The economy of words required by this format does not permit me to fully express my gratitude for Cate’s careful reading and positive review of Born Innocent. I look forward to future discussions about how we can further our shared goal of mitigating the harms of structural injustice and inequality for youth and families in the justice system.