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Editor’s Note: The following guest commentary reflects the views and opinions of the author alone and does not necessarily represent the official views of Texas Policy Research, its staff, board, or affiliated organizations. Guest submissions are lightly edited for grammar, formatting, clarity, and length while preserving the author’s voice and arguments. The author’s name has been withheld at their request. This commentary is a firsthand account.
Texas believes in work, responsibility, faith, family, and redemption. We tell people to take responsibility for their mistakes, serve their sentence, turn their lives around, and become productive members of society. But for many Texans with old, non-violent records, the punishment does not end when the sentence is complete.
It follows them into job interviews. It follows them into housing applications. It follows them when they try to get licensed, start a business, volunteer at school, apply for funding, or provide for their families. At some point, Texas has to ask whether a decades-old non-violent record is still protecting public safety, or whether it is simply keeping people trapped.
This is not a small issue. Texas Appleseed has reported that roughly 32 percent of Texans have a criminal record, and that nearly nine million Texans live with some type of record. The same report states that nearly nine in ten employers, four in five landlords, and three in five colleges use background checks, and that a person with a criminal record is 50 percent less likely to receive an interview or job offer. That makes this issue about more than criminal justice. It is about the Texas workforce, the economy, families, and communities.
Texas already has a legal process for Orders of Nondisclosure under Chapter 411 of the Texas Government Code. That matters. Nondisclosure is not the same as expunction. Expunction can remove certain records, but it is very limited. Nondisclosure seals certain offenses from public disclosure while still allowing criminal justice agencies, licensing agencies, and some government entities to access them. In other words, nondisclosure is not about pretending the past never happened. It is about limiting lifelong public punishment after accountability has already been served.
The problem is that the current process is too narrow, too complicated, and too difficult for many ordinary Texans to use. The sealing process can be burdensome, costly, and complicated. Eligibility can depend on the charge, the outcome, other convictions, and how long it has been since release or completion of a sentence. The process may require a court petition, fees, and legal requirements that are difficult to navigate without counsel. Relief may technically exist, but for many people, it is out of reach.
For me, this issue is not theoretical. It has been nearly 15 years since I have had any trouble, but my past still follows me into places where I am trying to build a better life. I have struggled to get a loan, qualify for certain opportunities, secure housing, and move forward professionally because an old record can still speak before I ever get the chance to explain who I am today.
This does not just affect me. I am helping raise two granddaughters. When an old record limits my opportunities, it also affects them. It affects housing stability, income, school involvement, field trips, volunteer opportunities, and the everyday parts of family life that many people take for granted. After a person has gone 10 or 15 years without new trouble, stayed responsible, worked, served family, and tried to rebuild, Texas should recognize that progress.
Public safety must remain the priority. Violent offenses, sexual offenses, human trafficking, family violence, and repeat serious offenses should be excluded from automatic sealing. The public has a right to be protected from people who continue to pose a danger. But non-violent offenders who have completed their sentence and remained crime-free for a defined period deserve a real path forward.
Texas should build on its existing nondisclosure framework by creating an automatic or greatly simplified record-sealing process after a five- to ten-year crime-free period for eligible non-violent offenses. That would not erase accountability. It would recognize rehabilitation. It would also reduce unnecessary court burdens by allowing eligible records to be identified through existing systems rather than requiring every person to file an individual petition.
The Texas Public Policy Foundation has also argued that automating record clearing would eliminate forms and fees, reduce court workload, and remove barriers to relief. Its research notes that people who successfully obtain expungement have low recidivism rates and earn an average of more than 22 percent higher wages within one year. That is not just mercy. That is workforce development.
The Clean Slate Initiative describes automatic record clearance as a model that shifts the burden from individuals to the state for people who have completed their sentences and remained crime-free. That matters because many people who qualify for relief never receive it. They do not know they qualify, cannot afford a lawyer, cannot pay the fees, or cannot navigate the system. A second chance should not depend on whether someone knows how to draft a petition or pay for legal help.
This is a conservative issue as much as it is a justice issue. Texans should want fewer people dependent on government assistance, fewer families destabilized by unemployment, fewer people returning to crime out of desperation, and more people working, paying taxes, raising children, mentoring others, and contributing to their communities.
Second chances should not mean ignoring accountability. They should mean recognizing when someone has proven, over time, that the past is no longer who they are.
If we truly believe people can change, our policies should reflect that belief.
Texas should lead with both accountability and opportunity. For eligible non-violent offenders who have completed their sentence and remained crime-free, second chances should mean second chances.
About the Author: The author is a Texas-based student, advocate, and nonprofit founder whose work focuses on education, digital literacy, workforce readiness, and second-chance opportunities. She has spent years independently researching the legal processes, workforce barriers, and reentry challenges affecting Texans with old criminal records, and writes here from personal experience. Her work is driven by a belief that accountability should be paired with real opportunities for rehabilitation, growth, and long-term success. Her name has been withheld at her request.
Disclosure: The author writes from personal experience with the long-term effects of an old non-violent record. She has no financial interest in the legislation discussed and is not affiliated with any political campaign or lobbying organization.
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