Americans love second acts. We praise entrepreneurs who fail fast, icons who rise from rock bottom, and politicians who reinvent themselves. From Robert Downey, Jr. to Martha Stewart to the current U.S. president, comebacks aren’t just tolerated—they’re celebrated.

But for those without wealth and status, second chances are harder to come by. Just ask “Jessica C.,” a St. Louis resident with a decades-old drug conviction. She did everything right—earned an advanced degree, worked to rebuild her life—but no matter how hard she tries, employers won’t hire her, landlords won’t call her back, and even volunteering at her son’s school remains off-limits.

Jessica is one of countless Missouri residents who could get their lives back under HB 953, a proposal to expunge old criminal records automatically. To qualify, folks like Jessica must remain crime-free for a number of years, with the precise period determined by the underlying offense.

Such legislation, known as “Clean Slate,” starts with a simple acknowledgement: Everyone makes mistakes. Most reasonable people would agree that a small error should not permanently define one’s future. Yet in Missouri, even a minor, nonviolent conviction from decades past can have ramifications that continue long after the sentence is served.

A clean record was once required to become anything from an acupuncturist to an embalmer in Missouri. Recognizing that overregulation had made “burglar” virtually the only job open to former felons, the state has recently emerged as a leader in occupational licensing reform, opening up the process to those without a perfect past. But 90 percent of employers and 80 percent of landlords still use background checks to screen applicants. More troubling is the rising use of background checks for college. Since the Virginia Tech shooting in 2007, background-check company Certified Background has gone from a dozen college and university customers to about 500 today.

Denying education to people who want to improve their lives is counterproductive. We know that one of the best ways to reduce recidivism is to help people find meaningful work, yet the unemployment rate among former prisoners is over 27 percent. Nearly half of U.S. children have at least one parent with a criminal record, which, for Missourians, is a barrier to obtaining food stamps. Policies like this extend collateral damage to children and families who do not deserve a lifetime of economic hardship because of a parent’s poor judgement.

Democrats and Republicans alike appreciate commonsense practicality, which is why Clean Slate has support on both sides of the aisle. If HB 953 passes, Missouri will join an ideologically diverse set of 12 states—including fellow conservative states Oklahoma and Utah—that have enacted Clean Slate legislation. Clean Slate’s bipartisan support is borne from necessity. Like many businesses nationwide, Missouri has faced tight labor conditions, with only 53 available workers for every 100 job openings​. Former offenders’ job performance compares favorably with non-offenders, and they are less likely to quit, saving money on turnover.

Lawmakers have a chance to support the economy and grant more than half a million people a new lease on life—a win-win by almost any measure. In Missouri, expungement is currently petition-based, requiring expensive lawyers and lots of paperwork. The process is so arduous that only 1 percent of qualified residents ever manage to seal their record. Despite some upfront costs, Clean Slate will benefit Missouri taxpayers by replacing a wasteful, antiquated bureaucracy with an automated digital system.

Outdated criminal records prevent successful reintegration into society and incentivize further criminal activity—a cycle that makes us all less safe. Public safety suffers when we permanently bar people from meeting their most basic needs. The Missouri Legislature should be commended for expanding the pool of individuals eligible for expungement and reducing waiting periods. Now is the time to build on that momentum and give thousands of Missourians their own comeback story.

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